


to the bone im evergreen

by thisstableground



Series: less than ninety degrees [7]
Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: (canon typical violence for DNH but not for ITH), Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Violence, plus most of the other ITH folk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstableground/pseuds/thisstableground
Summary: Things move on quickly, things catch up quickly.[aka, Usnavi, Ruben and Vanessa have futures to plan and pasts to deal with and messy, messy presents.][November 2017 - December 2017]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [IMPORTANT: it might help to read [ chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772532/chapters/24548079), [chapter 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772532/chapters/24648537) and [ chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772532/chapters/24699582) of _we'll light your way_ first, since that's where a lot of the setup for this gets started. you'll be able to figure out the deal without doing that, but it might flesh things out a bit.

 

Usnavi’s not a creature of grace by nature but he’s never been one to shy away from practising til perfect. Not born to be a dancer like Vanessa but he’s learnt how to match her steps and it’s a salsa beat in his feet all through closing up the store. Usnavi’s a creature of habit working in a rhythm cultivated through years spent treading the aisles of the bodega, multitasks to step quick-quick-slow while cleaning the floors and shakes his hips as he pulls the grate down over the window.

Sonny rolls his eyes and makes sarcastic comments while helping himself to a soda he's probably not gonna pay for, the ungrateful little bastard, but he lets Usnavi twirl him when he leaves through the back door.

“See you tomorrow, cuz!” he calls. “Keep on keeping on.”  
  
“Always do,” Usnavi yells back, and they tip their caps simultaneous, and Usnavi dances on back through the closed store to check the doors once more and then, behind the privacy of the closed grate and under the half-lit fluoro tube lights before he kills power for the day, he collapses with his head in his hands leaning against the counter.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Crumpled in his pocket, shoved there hurriedly when Sonny came on shift, a letter.

_For good and sufficient consideration, receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, the undersigned Mr Usnavi De la Vega ("Seller") hereby sells, transfers and conveys to Mr Damien Thompson ("Buyer")_

_1\. All and singular, the goods and chattels, property and effects, listed in Schedule A annexed hereto, which is incorporated herein and made a part hereof; and_

_2\. The whole of the good will of the De la Vega Bodega business formerly operated by the undersigned which is the subject of this sale._

Signed, dated, accepted, it’s finally official: Usnavi’s closing shop.

***

It’s below her pay grade technically and not part of her job description, but there’s nobody like Vanessa to deal with recalcitrant assholes on the phone. A bare minimum of awareness is required, which is how she’s having this dumb conversation while lining up the Twitter feed content and texting Nina on her cell.

**Nina:**  
\- Have you told them yet?  
  
**Vanessa:  
** \- no  
\- i dont even know if im gonna take it, man. i dont even know if i WANT it

 **Nina:  
** \- You know they’ll be supportive no matter what, right? 

**Vanessa:  
** \- yes exactly thats the PROBLEM  
\- just going to make it even harder to think clearly about it if theyre there being all sweet and genuine and all that shit  
\- i have to decide this for myself

 **Nina:  
** \- Well, you know I’d be happy to have you here, but you’re right, it’s up to you.  
\- Good luck figuring it out <3 x

 **Vanessa:  
** \- uuuuuugh  x

She puts her cell down and says “Yes” into the landline handset for the millionth time, rolls her eyes expressive at Jackie from Editorial as she passes. “Yes, I am aware of—I am— yes, I’ve heard of brand loyalty, but when you’re expecting us to shaft one of our paying clients and put a whole new centre spread out three days before print then I think you’re being just a little—oh, would you look at that, I’m going through a tunnel, crackle crackle goodbye.” She slams the handset down. “Prick.”

“That’s the spirit!” says her manager. “…Wait, I hope that wasn’t someone who’s paying us.”  
  
“The opposite,” says Vanessa. “Asshole wanted us to ditch the centre four pages to show their shit based on ‘brand loyalty’ for a contract that’s long fucking expired. What kind of delusion, honestly? No wonder they apparently can’t afford to pay us, if that’s their idea of good business.”  
  
“Then that’s the spirit! Hey, have you made a decision yet?”  
  
“No,” she says, resists the temptation to groan aloud in frustration. “I’ve…it’s a lot to think about.”

“Well, you’ve got some time left to decide, but personally I don’t know what you’re waiting for. The California branch were pretty impressed with you when I gave them my recommendation. And it’s a hell of an opportunity.”

***

Ruben’s in a familiar scene stood at the head of a table. Tie and shirt and blazer picked out by Vanessa this morning, good luck note from Usnavi slipped inside his pocket that he’d discovered on the train.

It's cute and he'll probably keep it forever like he does with all their notes, but today he doesn’t need luck. He has _science._ He has data and facts and not a little bit of what could maybe be called genius, and he’s got a drug that could change so much for millions and millions of people.

Public speaking’s not where Ruben shines, but just like when he teaches this doesn’t count as public speaking. This is just…knowledge. And what’s so hard about talking when he knew before he got here the faces all around the table would glow the way they are with the excitement of potential future research? Or profit, depending on who specifically you look at in the boardroom. Ruben's got a bit of both. And he's got that satisfaction: it’s one thing to sound like you know what you’re talking about to college kids or non-scientists, but _man_ , he missed the way that people who spend all day every day surrounded by innovation and discovery still have to fight to pretend their jaws haven’t dropped at his work.

“This is…impressive. _Incredibly_ impressive, Dr Marcado.”

Ruben smiles, bites down the overpowering urge to say “I know”.

Ruben’s not certain about a lot of things, but he’s fucking certain about Blackout.

And then, isn’t this a familiar scene too, and it’s not unexpected but it still knocks him, not enough to dislodge but definitely enough to disrupt his flow:

“…seems to be theoretically sound, enough so that we’d be happy to progress to further research, but if you can give us the details of your trial subject it would really fast-track the process. There’s a lot of claims here that need to be verified.”

He remembers in a boardroom years ago, in a worse tie and suit, no note in his pocket, gathering up his papers. A million dollars thudding in his head over and over, the thought _you could change so much with this_ , and saying “I’m sorry, I can’t give you his name”.

He’s hesitant for whole different reasons now.

“Dr Marcado?”

“There might be some difficulty with contacting the, um, participant,” he says, tries to maintain the confidence he had earlier. He deserves this. He _earned_ this. "But I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: fyi, there'll probably be some chopping and changing with how i approach the multiple POVs depending where we are, but chapters 2 through 4 will all take place simultaneously, from each of the trios perspective.]

**Monday**

The weekend went by quiet in a way that felt unnatural. Like everyone spent the whole thing in the stages just after waking, groggy and half-aware and all up inside their own heads. It’s only paranoia, Vanessa knows it is, but she can’t help feeling like they know she’s keeping secrets. She’s only mentioned it to Nina, who can keep her mouth shut about things, and Vanessa doesn’t walk around like a neon sign covered in emotions the way the guys do, but it still feels like they can read it right off her. Though she couldn’t really read _them_ this weekend, so maybe she’s just off her game.

“Tell me more about it?” says Nina, voice distant and tinny. The Facetime window goes indistinct for a second as she jostles the laptop sitting back down with a mug in her hand. Then her face is in view and her voice comes through clearer when she says, “all you’ve said so far is it’s ‘photo stuff’.”

“I guess it’s sort of like an internship?” says Vanessa, rolling to lie on her back on the bed and look into the camera upside-down, legs stretching up the wall beside her. “Except I’d still be doing a lot of the same stuff I do now as well, since thats not really location-specific. But I’d be able to go out on shoots proper, and shadow the photographers, learn about the setup and all. Maybe even get together a portfolio of my own. Plus I get a little bit of a pay bump.” She does a half-hearted victory punch straight up above her head.

“Huh,” says Nina. “That sounds really awesome. And you just don't know if you’re into it, or..?”

Vanessa shrugs, an awkward movement from the position she’s in. “It’s really far away. And I’ve never really thought about being a photographer before, so I don’t know. I just volunteered to help on the NYC shoots because they were asking round the office for people to lend a hand and I was so bored I could’ve screamed. Change of pace, you know?” 

She walks her feet idly higher up the wall. “But I guess the stuff we did caught the boss’ eye, since that’s why she recommended me. And it was cool to see the finished thing and know I’m the one made it look that way, made it mean what I wanted it to mean. Like how you are with writing. So it might be kinda fun or like. An opportunity or some shit, I dunno.”

“That sounds like Vanessa for ‘I really want to do this’.”

“I’m…restless,” Vanessa says, not directly answering. “Is that bad? I feel like I wanna leave. Not forever, I’m not _unhappy_. I’m super happy. But I’m still restless. I don’t know why.”

“You always have been,” Nina reminds her. “That’s our thing.”

It’s true, part of what drew her and Nina and Usnavi all together as friends to begin with when they were still just little kids. All keyed up in different directions, but it was close enough that they all understood each other.

But Vanessa’s not like Nina, who even after losing her way for a while always walked with purpose, her path winding out clear in front of her sooner or later, drawing maps for herself along the way. Or like Usnavi who never stops moving, but only to bounce around tirelessly in small spaces like a pinball between the places and the people he considers to be home. Vanessa’s not on a journey trying to find a destination. It’s more like when she goes out for a jog to clear her mind: going nowhere in particular, moving for the sake of movement and to know she’s not caged up.

“Nina...what if I’m just running because it’s all I know how to do?” She weaves a lock of hair between her fingers, in-out-in-out, and stares at it very closely. “Like with mom? I mean, I never even thought of this as a career option till they offered and suddenly I’m gonna leave my boyfriends in the dust and move halfway across the country to do it?”

“Oh, Vanessa, that’s not what happened with your mom and you know it,” sighs Nina. “And you're not running. There’s so many directions you could take your life. It’s good to explore all the options open to you!”

Sometimes Nina talks like a pamphlet for careers counselling. Though that is essentially what Vanessa’s wanting so she shouldn’t really complain.

“Why won’t you just tell me straight up what to do so I won’t have to keep thinking about it?” she grouses, twisting back round to sit upright. “Isn’t that why I keep you around? To make all my difficult decisions for me?”

“You keep me around because for some reason I tolerate your attitude,” Nina corrects her. “And we both know if I ever told you what to do you’d do the opposite just to be argumentative.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Vanessa argues. Nina throws her hands up all _why are you like this_ but then leans forward elbows on her desk with her hands steepled in front of her face, looking very wise like she always does.

“Look,” she says. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But I’m gonna tell you that I think you’re turning this into more of a be-all-end-all decision than it is. You’re either gonna stay in New York and probably get twenty promotions and take over the city by the end of 2018, or you’re gonna come to California and live it up with me on the west coast, and we’ll drink cocktails together on the beach and send so many pictures to Dani and Carla to make them hideously jealous, but either way you’re gonna kill it and things will work out fine. How could they not? You’re Vanessa! You’re smart and badass and awesome and gorgeous and the coolest girl I know.”

It always creeps up on Vanessa how much she misses Nina and her patience and her reassurance when she’s gone, jumps out unexpected to catch her off her guard. 

“Quit hitting on me, Rosario, how many times do I have to tell you I’m never gonna get with you?” she says, in a wobbly emotional voice that she determinedly ignores.

“Oh, well, in that case don’t bother coming down here, this was actually all just part of an elaborate seduction plan,” says Nina. “You, me, beaches, bikinis, I know you’re secretly tempted.”

“I’ll call you if I ever stop being the token straight and jump on that bi hype with the boys,” Vanessa says, and blows a kiss to the camera.

***

**Tuesday**

It’s two and a half years since the salon closed and Vanessa found her way to work at Moda, starting as the coffee-and-Twitter girl and gathering extra responsibilities like a rolling snowball as she went. It’s a pretty sweet gig, since she’s proven herself enough that they let her do her own thing, within reason. But it's same, same, same, and there’s only so much that switching between working from home or office or the guy’s apartments can do to keep it fresh. That’s why she takes any opportunity to shake it up, picking up the little extra projects that got her this recommendation in the first place.

She doesn’t know what she wants to do in the same way Ruben’s always known what he wants to do. But she thinks that the not knowing is part of the whole thing. Vanessa’s not looking for a picket fence and a horde of shrieking kids and a normal life (god knows she’s doing well at avoiding _that_ so far, at least). She doesn’t want to settle down into one career walking the same strip of office carpet forever. How Usnavi is so happy to be in his bodega every single day when neither of them have any tolerance for boredom is miles beyond her. She loves it there, obviously, but only because it’s where Usnavi is, and because she’s not the one who has to deal with the practicalities of running it.

Vanessa’s not a career for life girl, but she’s got a sharp eye for a visual of the near future and for now she can see herself and Nina living together, and she can see herself on shoots and on the beach and on a different coast. Everyone else seems to know where they’re looking to find the thing that makes their work mean something: Usnavi looks at the people and Ruben looks at the science and Nina looks at the words. Vanessa hasn’t figured out whether there’s any one thing for her, but maybe she’ll find it in the viewfinder of a borrowed camera, lining up shots against a California skyline. She likes the idea of being the one to do the looking, instead of the one being looked at. She likes the idea of being able to make people see the world the way she sees it. Or making it look the way she wishes it did for real.

It’s a risk. But…kissing Usnavi worked out well for her. So did letting things play out with Ruben. So did leaving the barrio. Taking risks always seems to pay off.

Except she’s never had to risk this _much_ before. Her relationship with her mom was so on the rocks anyway that getting out could only improve it. Things with Usnavi and Ruben are so good, even if they’re both being weird this week. She doesn’t want to fuck it up with them. 

And she’s thinking in fucking circles, all day, the whole day.

***

**Wednesday**

Daniela places a mug down in front of Vanessa, then sits opposite her, leans in and sings ‘tell meeeee’, finishing on a smile that’s all teeth. There’s something vaguely vampiric about Dani when she thinks there’s exciting information she could bleed out of someone. Vanessa suppresses the urge to cover her neck protectively.

“You _cannot_ tell anyone,” she stresses. “And this isn’t one of those ‘you can tell Carla and wait for her to tell everyone for you’ kinda not tell anyones. It’s important. I haven’t said anything to Ruben or Usnavi yet, not till I figure it out, and I could really use your advice.”

“I am perfectly able to keep secrets, you know,” says Dani, sounding greatly offended. “It’s hardly _my_ fault if people don’t specify when they want a secret to be kept. But if you say it is important, my lips are sealed.”

“¿Prometes?”

“Cross my heart, chica,” Dani says, doing exactly that. “Now! Tell me tell me tell me.”

“I’ve been offered a placement in California with work, four months doing my usual stuff plus a whole bunch of photography shit.”

Dani squeals. “¡ _Wepa_! Oh, Vanessa, ¡qué fantástico!”

She waves off Dani’s noises of excitement. “Yeah, it’s a pretty cool opportunity but…I’m just not sure if I should take it.”

“It’s _California_ ,” says Dani, like Vanessa is stupid, and Vanessa gives her a dry _that’s helpful_ look. “Well. Fine. Have you done the pros and cons?”

“Obviously.”

“Then let me hear them.”

“Aite, pros: I’ve never been to Cali. It’d be fun to live with Nina. I’m getting bored with what I’m doing now and it might open up some doors. I like doing new things. It’s not till mid-January so I’d be here for Christmas and New Year’s. Even if it sucks it’s only four months,” Vanessa lists.

“And the cons?”

“It’s _four whole month_ s and…I’d kind of miss the guys,” she says, trying to understate it. She’d miss them so fucking much. Dani raises her eyebrows. “And I feel like Ruben will maybe freak out about me leaving, especially since I’d be gone for like…two-thirds the length of our relationship now, and Usnavi’s in a weird place with selling the bodega. So it just seems like a bad time, and it’s not like I’d be giving up my lifelong dream, so maybe I should wait?”

“Usnavi’s selling the bodega?” says Dani, perking up at the gossip. “When? Does he have a new job yet? Will he be moving out of the apartment too? Ay, pobrecito, and this week of all weeks!” She presses her hand over her heart and shakes her head.

“Nothing’s official yet, Dani, chill. There’ve been people interested, that’s all. And this is not what we’re talking about right now,” Vanessa reminds her.

Dani pouts but dutifully returns to the topic, tapping her foot thoughtfully against the leg of her chair. “You said January, hm?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. That’s at least a month for them to get used to the idea. Trust me on this, sometimes it’s better to just _do_. If you wait for things to be perfect in your lives before you change anything, you will be waiting for a long, long time. You should take it.”

“You sound pretty damn certain.”

“Vanessa,” says Dani. “Have you noticed that all of your reasons for staying are not _your_ reasons, but theirs?”

Vanessa opens her mouth and makes a long, meandering noise then lamely says, “oh.”

Dani is nodding sagely, which sort of makes Vanessa want to immediately deny it and decide to stay just to be contrary, but she has a point.

“I know you, linda, and you will regret it if you don’t. You’ll resent them if you don’t,” says Dani. “Four months isn’t so long. They’ll survive without you.”

“Hmm,” says Vanessa, darkly. Dani’s hit the mark too close without even knowing it: she’s not worried they won’t love her if she leaves like she thinks she probably should be, like most people might. Maybe it's egotistical, but she’s worried they won’t cope without her.

Dani shrugs. “So I think you should take it.”

“I gotta think a bit more. But thanks, Dani,” she says. “I’m gonna head over to Usnavi’s now. Remember, if you tell people about this, they’ll never find your body.”

“You don’t scare me, niñita, I made you what you are today,” scoffs Dani, with that vampire grin again.

***

**Thursday**

An explanation last night for why things have been so odd and quiet on the relationship front this week, and it’s not because they’ve figured out her thoughts about California: turns out it _is_ official, actually, Usnavi’s sold the bodega.

Well, that explains Usnavi, at least. Ruben had showed up all limp and frowny with smudgy exhausted eyes, but all he’d said about it was “I just haven’t been sleeping great” and then immediately redirected conversation to hear Usnavi’s news with all the subtlety of a brick through a window.

“How are you feeling about it, honey?” she had asked Usnavi, hugging him. He didn’t look as tired as Ruben, but there was something worn and weary about his edges. Still, that’s no surprise. The universe has terrible timing.

Usnavi had tipped his head first to one side, then the other, puzzling it out. “Undecided. It’s…weird? But, I mean, we’ve been waiting for this for months. Sometimes it’s just time for things to change. I wanna make sure it gets the sendoff it deserves instead of getting all mopey and introspective, you know? Finish on a high note and all."

Then he’d given her a big bright smile and turned to start asking Ruben something about Sonny, who’s apparently in the middle of college applications right now or something, so the subject seemed to be closed for the night.

Vanessa’s only got half her mind on work while she rolls it all round in her head now. Weird doesn’t begin to cover it. Usnavi’s a constant in the barrio. The bodega’s a constant in their lives. It’s like the sun decided to move and all the planets are confused about what they’re supposed to orbit around now. But Usnavi had smiled and joked through dinner and hummed softly while drying the dishes, so even though he wasn’t Usnavi at max capacity, he seemed to be handling things okay by the time Ruben and Vanessa headed back to their own apartments at the end of the day.

It’s not as if anything unexpected has happened, she supposes. And he’s right. Sometimes it is just time for things to change. Fresh year, fresh start. For Ruben, too, hard at work on Blackout. So why not all three of them?

She thinks Usnavi will get it. Leaving was always an option for both of them: that bottle of champagne was a frequently-repeated promise that held over the span of several years. Usnavi knows the feeling of home away from home, of his heart living long-distance between places, told her that just because he stayed in New York after all doesn’t mean his love for DR is less, he’ll always keep going back whenever it’s possible. And if ever he went to live in DR, New York would be his home all the same. Just because Vanessa might go to California doesn’t mean she won’t keep some of her heart here with them as well. He’s always understood her need for freedom, and it’s him that taught her how to make a home: that it’s not so claustrophobic to make roots if she can make branches too. He’ll miss her, she knows that, but he’ll get it.

She’s…not so sure about how Ruben might feel. The problem is he’s not particularly close with people outside of her and Usnavi, doesn’t seem to seek anyone else’s presence out. Where she’s got Nina and Usnavi has Benny, Ruben mostly has plants, which isn’t the same thing no matter how much he talks to them. And he’s not particularly secure in the fact that he is loved. And where her and Usnavi have years of history, they’ve only been dating Ruben for six months, though it feels like he’s been there forever sometimes. 

Ruben’s unpredictable, though. For all she’s on his wavelength on a fairly frequent basis he manages to also be completely incomprehensible for a thousand different reasons all the time, so god knows how he’ll react. But she thinks perhaps that the concept of leaving, for Ruben, is a lot less about freedom and a lot more about fleeing, and she’s not sure thats going to translate to a positive reaction when she finally breaks the news.

Something in her head says, _you always cut and run when people need you around. First Mom, now them._

_Fuck off,_ she thinks back savagely. Vanessa didn’t get to be the girl she is by letting her own inner monologue run riot with self-doubt. Nina was right, she’s done her time feeling guilty about her mom. And where would they be if she’d stayed? Would her mom have got a job like she does now? Would her mom be four months sober? Maybe. Would Vanessa be happy? Definitely not. Sometimes selfishness is the only right answer. Harsh, but life is harsh.

It’s not the same at all with the boys as it was with her mother. They don’t take and take and drain her; they give so much love it’s painful. Everything about them is that way, that's the thing, they live so fucking raw all the time and she can never understand it. It’s like they’re turtles that just started going around without their shells on, all their soft spots and nerve endings right out on show for anything to get at, and the world keeps taking advantage of it. And then they turn to her when she walks in to find them fraying at the seams or amped to the point of overload, and they say “Van _essa_ ” with slumping relieved shoulders when they see her like all the terrible things in life can be fixed now that she’s arrived.

It’s not something she takes lightly, and California or not, she’ll never stop answering the phone at midnight when Ruben needs someone to talk him down, and she’ll never stop helping Usnavi chill out when he tips over the edge from energy to exhausted mania. She’s not abandoning them or breaking up with them: she _loves_ them, more than she ever thought she could feel for even one person, never mind two at once. Some of her wants to stay here with them always, to be with them and protect them and try to be everything they think she is when they say her name that way. But there’s also part of her who knows she’s only one girl, she can’t hold the door against the whole world all the time, and she can’t let love mean dependency. Dependency is death by suffocation and she won’t let that happen to the three of them. She needs to chase the things she doesn't know if she wants, to find out for herself, and she needs to know they can survive without her when she does. It’s too much to live up to otherwise. The price of failure is way too high.


	3. Chapter 3

**Monday**

It shouldn’t be a question but Saturday and Sunday pass with him asking himself over and over again anyway. There’s an answer coming from imaginary versions of Usnavi and Vanessa and the same answer coming like screaming across his scars and he knows it should be as simple as what everything’s telling him: don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Ruben’s earned Blackout in a long fight but he won’t lose Blackout without Jason, things will just take longer. Don’t be an idiot.

It bounces around his brain constantly anyway. Vanessa and Usnavi are spacey all weekend themselves like his mood has infected them so he shies off back to his own apartment on Sunday afternoon and doesn’t message either of them for fear of making it worse. It’s a relief on Monday to go to college and let himself fall into the comfortable patter of reciting knowledge well-rehearsed. It’s a relief on Monday that he gets text from Sonny almost as soon as he’s home from work, asking if Ruben can help him figure out what the hell he’s going to do about college. Distraction doesn’t solve the problem but at least he gets a breather.

Ruben types back a quick affirmative and tries not to feel nervous while he waits. He likes Sonny, but he doesn’t spend one-on-one time with people outside of who he’s dating, and even though he has no trouble interacting with the kids in all his classes, the casual context of talking to Sonny always makes his inner seventeen year old self tense and stressed. He could never talk to teenagers normally even when he was one.

Sonny seems quite fond of him anyway, even if it’s just politeness for Usnavi’s sake. He’s bustling through the door the second Ruben answers with a cheery “what up, Doctor M?” and a heavy-looking backpack.

“Hey, Sonny. Come through.”

They go to the kitchen where Sonny upends his backpack over the table with a flourish, sending an avalanche of college course brochures and pamphlets falling all over the table and says “read ‘em and weep, R. Em-cado.” He pauses. “Seriously, please do, because I sure as hell have been and I’d like to not be the only one crying. Why are there so many  _choices?!_ ”

He thuds down despairingly into a chair.

Sonny’s nowhere near as scattered as Usnavi often is, but it’s easy to tell they’re family from personality. Sonny, like Usnavi, is excitable and kind and verbose, sometimes forgets not to yell, and is exceptionally fond of nicknames. While Usnavi’s nicknames for Ruben are all endearments, Sonny’s a fan of mangling a given name almost beyond recognition in seemingly endless new pronunciations. Usnavi is  _cuz_  more often than anything, but he can also be  _Navi_  or  _You-ess-navi_  or  _Us-navy_ , Vanessa is  _V_  and  _Van_  and  _Vee-nessa_ , a million other alternatives available on request.

He mostly sticks to Ruben’s last name and title; Ruben’s reaction to Sonny calling him  _Rubes_  that one time made a very strong impression in a very bad way. Now he’s  _Doctor M_ , and  _Ruben: PhD_ , and occasionally if Sonny’s feeling particularly sassy, Ruben is  _Usnavi’s side-piece_.

Sonny’s looking at him expectantly so Ruben pours the coffee he’d already set on to brew and then they get to work. He can’t really say much on the courses themselves. Politics and philosophy aren’t his area: if Sonny were going the STEM route he’d have advice for days. But Sonny needs help figuring out  _how_  to weigh up his options, ways to make the cut for his first and backup choices, how to factor in location and money and how to write a killer application. Ruben knows all about that. And Sonny seems so genuinely grateful after they spend a couple hours working through everything and arming him with all the information that it almost makes Ruben forget his Jason thing entirely.

“Shit, I really think I might be able to come to some kind of decision now,” says Sonny. “I’ve just been like…paralysed with options for ages on this. Ruben, you’re the  _best_.”

Ruben takes a long drink of coffee so he doesn’t have to respond to that.

“I wish I could just go there now,” says Sonny. “I’m so ready to be done with school.”

“It’ll come around soon enough,” says Ruben, and Sonny looks suddenly, surprisingly serious.

“ _Not_  soon enough,” he says. “Man, I’ve been waiting for this since I was a little kid. To actually do something important. To help people. It’s just so frustrating to know that even once I’m there, there’s what, how many years until I graduate and can actually make a noticeable difference? And there’s people who need change  _now_.”

“Don’t wish your life away,” Ruben advises. “There’s always gonna be times when it feels like you’re waiting for everything to start. You’ll get there. What was it that abuela of yours used to say?”

“Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say, didn’t you go to college when you were like twelve?” grumbles Sonny, shoving all his brochures back in his bag. “But seriously, Ruben, thank you for this. My mom doesn’t get this stuff at all and Usnavi could if he tried but I didn’t want to ask since it’d definitely stress him out, you know how he is.”

Ruben smiles at the thanks and sees him to the door. Thinks hard while he washes the two empty mugs. Sonny’s unshakeable self-assurance that he’s gonna change the world is endearing, but it’s hit something bittersweet in Ruben. He doesn’t doubt Sonny’s capabilities. It’s just that big plans don’t always pan out the way you picture them.

***

**Tuesday**

Two fingers tracing the line of his sternum and a knifepoint pressing hard but not deadly right in their wake, thumb smears the scarlet across his chest like warpaint, voice close enough there’s breath on his face tells him “red’s a good color on you, Ruby Tuesday” and Ruben’s awake and across the room looking for layers before his eyes are even open.

“No,” he says, because he can now, because people listen when he says it even though there’s no-one here to hear it at the moment. This is a reminder to himself. “No, no, no, no,” and “I don’t want to” and “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

It takes too long to get the sweater on with his hands trembling like this - when this happens around Vanessa she always helps him get dressed - and it’s not enough, he needs another, and then he needs to pull the sleeves down over his hands and he needs socks and he needs to bring his duvet up over him to cover himself completely - when this happens around Usnavi, he always puts his hat on Ruben’s head - and then Ruben breathes and breathes and says “no” until he doesn’t need to say it any more.

When its okay for him to uncover his head he reaches out to check the time on his phone. 2:47AM. Too late to call Vanessa or Usnavi, though they always say they want him to. But he can’t do it every single time.

The bedroom isn’t safe and even though it’s New York November there’s Jamaica heat worked its way into his bones, so Ruben takes his quilt wrapped round him like a cape and stands in his socks shivering on the fire escape to freeze it out of his system.

He’s so tired. It’s obvious he’s going to have to call in sick tomorrow, sleep’s not gonna come back to him tonight and it’s not late enough to just call it a very early start to the day.

It was pitch dark coming up to the warehouse in the rental car, nothing around for miles. It’s never dark in the city completely. The streetlamps always shine. Looking out from across the fire escape, so do rooms in apartments even at this hour, dotted at bright intervals like stars. Ruben wonders how many other people can’t sleep right now since being shook awake by remembered hands, remembered pain from a parent or a partner or a stranger or themselves.

People need change  _now_ , Sonny had said. These nights pass for Ruben and he copes and it’s not as bad as things used to be, but Ruben’s not the only one with cruel things in his dreams.

How many people are switching all the lights on in their apartments to chase away the memories hidden in the shadows and the corners, giving up on sleep, knowing they’ll miss another day of work, they’ll lose another day to the half-reality of exhaustion? How many people are so goddamn tired that tonight they decide to just give up on everything, and how many more tomorrow?

Blackout without Jason is a long way down the line. Things need to move faster. Every night that passes there’s more he could have done. How much time, how much time? Those people don’t have enough to spare. And Ruben’s lost enough of his own to Jason already.

***

**Wednesday**

There’s no direct line to call up a ghost, so Ruben just googles it instead. He reads through half-closed eyes, leaning away from the screen for the first few pages of results, like squinting might protect him from whatever shows up. A completely irrational part of him keeps yelling unhelpful things like “he’s been living in the apartment above you the entire time!” and expecting to see a picture pop up of Jason standing outside of Ruben’s front door, but aside from the irrelevant results - fuck Jason for having such a generic name - all that’s showing up is  _held for questioning in the case of missing Philadelphia chemist_ or  _no jail time on the agreement that Dr Cole will undergo intensive psychiatric treatment_  and a bunch of stuff Ruben already knows.

He’s not really got any idea of how to track a person down. He might know how to track down a person who does.

“Independence Memorial Hospital, how can I help?”

“Um, hi, I was wondering if Josh Stern is still employed here, and would it be possible for me to speak with him?”  _Please, please, please,_ he mouths to himself, though he doesn’t know if he’s hoping for the answer to be yes or no. Ruben didn’t see Josh the one time he stopped by IMH after he got back to America, but he doesn’t know whether whether that’s just because Josh wasn’t there that day, or if he decided like Ruben to find somewhere to work without so much Jason all over it.

“May I ask what this call is concerning?”  
  
“It’s sort of a confidential matter. Uh, tell him it’s Ruben.”

“Can I get a last name?”  
  
Aw, fuck. “Ruben…Marcado.”

“Okay, Mr…wait,  _Ruben Marcado_ , you’re — oh!”

He winces. Everyone who works there knows, of course, even the people he never met. “Yes. Can I just speak to Josh, please?”

“O-of course, Dr Marcado, I’ll put you through now.”

Ruben chews his sweater cuff while he waits for the call to connect, wondering if he’s crossing a line. As far as he knows, Josh never had to contend with Ian directly. But he doesn’t know what happened after he left either and—

“Ruben? Oh my god,  _Ruben_?”  
  
“Yup,” he says. “How’s it going, Josh?”

“I can’t believe - Ruben, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve been wanting to say it since it happened but nobody knew where you were and I thought trying to find you if you didn’t want me to would be - I should have  _known_ , I should have done something—“ Josh is flustered, which is new. Ruben always liked to try and ruffle his feathers but other than that last time they saw each other while Ruben was running away to the airport, at most he only ever managed to irk or occasionally disgust him.

“Woah,” he says. “Josh, why the hell are you apologizing? Last I checked you’re not the one who carved me up like a turkey.” He ignores Josh’s shocked  _Ruben!_  and continues “in fact, heard you had a hand in helping them figure out where I was. You could’ve been a detective, you know.”  
  
“I am quite skilled at what I do, yes, including tracking down things which are difficult to find,” says Josh, his tone all false modesty, far closer to how Ruben remembers him. He sounds remorseful when he adds, “but I should have seen that something was going on before that. There was always something off about you two, and— it was my job to not ask questions. I should have done.”

“If I’m gonna blame anyone for this it won’t be you,” Ruben says. “It was…a complicated situation. Jason was— I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it. Um, he wasn’t, with you—was he…you were okay, right? While you worked for him.”

“I’m not sure what you think might have happened specifically, but I can assure you that until I found out he was on that plane with you, I had no inkling that Dr Cole was anything other than, uh, eccentric. He paid me well to do my job, and I did, and that’s all I could really say about it.” Josh’s voice goes surprisingly soft. “I was fine. It was…jarring, when everything came out. But he never hurt me.”  
  
“Okay,” says Ruben, relieved. No Ian, then. He wonders if Jason messed with Josh’s head as bad as he did with Ruben’s, if it was easier being his employee than his friend, but Ruben can’t imagine discussing it with him. They barely knew each other, really, and even less so now. “Guess I just got lucky, then.”

A faint beeping sounds on Josh’s end of the line.  
  
“Oh, shit. Okay, I’m really sorry, but I have a thing I need to get to in five minutes. And I’m sort of assuming this isn’t just a social call, so…?”

“You got me,” Ruben admits. “I’m sorry to just pop up out of nowhere and ask you to do shit for me, but I couldn’t think of who else would be able to help. I need Jason’s contact details.”

It takes Josh a while to respond and when he does all he says is “but- what- Ruben, but that’s,  _why_ would,  _what?!_ ”

Past-Ruben would be so proud of Present-Ruben’s Josh-ruffling abilities. “I know. It’s a whole thing, long story, it’s fine if you don’t know—“

“Oh, I know,” says Josh. “Please. Of course I  _know_. And even if I didn’t I could probably find it quite easily, but assuming he’s still got the same number he actually called me after he got out of treatment, asking about you.”

Ruben’s legs go weak. He sits down hard. “What?”  
  
“I didn’t tell him anything,” Josh adds hastly. “I said I heard you’d left town, and you’re not in touch with anyone from here, then I blocked his number. It’ll still be saved in my phone. I…I can message it to you, if you’re sure you want it? Is it really a good idea to—”  
  
“I’m sure,” says Ruben, firmly.

He gives his cell number, with Josh sighing reluctantly while he writes it down. Ruben thanks him profusely.

“It’s nothing,” says Josh. “Look, I have to leave now but can I…is it okay if I ask a personal question, before I go?”

“Sure,” says Ruben, nervously.  
  
“How… _are_  you? I mean, how have you been doing?”  
  
Ruben thinks it over hard. “I’m…good. I’ve been doing well. Really, surprisingly well.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” and Josh sounds like he genuinely means it. “It was really good to hear from you, Ruben. Just. Be safe, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Josh. Say hi to Connie for me.”

They hang up, and Ruben stares at his screen, feeling weighed down and lighter all at once.

“Should’ve been friends with  _that_  guy instead of Jason,” he mutters to himself.

A few seconds later his phone lights up with a text from an unknown contact, Josh sending along Jason’s details, followed almost immediately by one from Usnavi asking him if he’s still coming over for dinner. He replies  _yes, i’ll be there soon_ to Usnavi and  _thanks_  to Josh, and he stares at the message with Jason’s number till his eyes start to hurt.

***

**Thursday.**

The sensible thing to do would’ve been to tell Usnavi and Vanessa last night, hear their opinions and probably their yelling that he’d even think of doing what he’s about to do. But then Usnavi told them about the store, and with tomorrow coming up, Ruben just didn’t know how to say it.

Excuses. He wouldn’t have done anyway. He already knows he’s making a bad decision and he doesn't want them to talk him out of it. When has knowing ever stopped him before?

At least he’s not going into it completely thoughtless. He considered making a call but decided there’s voices that should probably only be heard inside his head instead of real, and he’s not doing this for chit-chat time anyway.

Instead, he gets himself a glass of water, adds three ice cubes, grabs his phone. Setting the water at a safe distance, he sits down on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, and types:

_Dr Cole,_

_I am contacting you regarding an extended trial in which you participated some years ago, for the drug known as Blackout. We require your signature on some documents agreeing to allow us to use the data gathered in this trial and to contact you for further interview. Please respond with the address or email account to which these forms can be sent._

_Your co-operation is appreciated,_

_Dr Ruben Marcado, PhD._

Breathes deeply to the count of three. Presses send.

Then he leans forward and, like he thought he would do, Ruben throws up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Monday**.

Sonny comes in after school and says “can I borrow Ruben for a couple hours?”

“This ain’t the Rent-A-Ruben store, ask him yourself,” says Usnavi. “Although he’s still at work right now, he’ll be done in about an hour. What do you need him for?”

“I need his advice on figurin' out my college applications.”

Oh, wow. Usnavi hadn’t even thought of that but of course, Sonny’s so close to finishing high school and where would he go but college? His share of Abuela’s lotto money’s been kept safe for two years for that very reason.

Wow. And Usnavi thought  _this_  had been a bit of a year, what with the Ruben and the threesome and all, but it doesn’t look like all back to normal operations in 2018, if Sonny’s leaving and the bodega’s gone and Usnavi is going to be… employed somewhere else, hopefully? Hopefully living somewhere? He hasn’t thought it through yet. Regardless: big, big changes.

“I could help you with that,” Usnavi offers.

“You’d hate it,” Sonny warns him.

“Okay,” Usnavi agrees easily. He probably would, and Ruben’s the better choice for college advice anyway. Sonny pokes idly at the shelf of candy. He eats way too much of that stuff. Usnavi’s tried to cut him off before but it always makes Sonny start calling him  _Momsnavi_  which he hates so it never lasts long.

“Damn. So. Applyin' for college, huh?” says Usnavi, ringing Sonny’s bag of Skittles through. His voice comes out pitched higher than he meant it to.

“Oh,  _no._  Usnavi, do not do this,” groans Sonny.

“I ain't doing nothin',” says Usnavi, his voice rising more. Now he sounds like he’s on helium. Nothing to be done about it. “It’s just…I always knew you’d do it, Sonny, I  _always_  knew—“

“I’ve not even written the  _applications_  —“

“But you will! And all the colleges will be fightin' over you and you’ll be so amazin' a-a-and—“  
  
“Can you _not_  - ”  
  
“And I’ll just be so goddamn proud of you!” Usnavi finally finishes, and then bursts into tears.

Sonny sighs heavily and comes behind the counter to put his arm around Usnavi. “Honest, I’m rethinkin' it already, I don’t know how you’ll cope without me. You’re a stone-cold wreck, cuz.”  
  
“I know,” says Usnavi, and hugs Sonny back. He doesn’t want to think about coping without Sonny, or about all the never-agains of opening together or him complaining at Sonny’s lateness or them standing behind the counter dueting at Vanessa first thing in the morning. His little cousin is going to go to college and that’s a thing to celebrate, so he pushes the good stuff to the front and thinks hard about it and tries to let that be the mood that shines through in his smile. “But I mean every word of it.”

***

**Tuesday**

Usnavi keeps pushing the good stuff to the front and lets that be his mood and when he passes Benny the change for his Milky Way and coffee, Benny frowns and says “what’s up with you?”, which catches him off balance but he recovers fast.

“Same old, same old,” Usnavi says, chill as hell. “What’s up with you?”  
  
“Usnavi, that don’t fool me.”

Usnavi twists his mouth to the side and scrunches his nose and admits he’s found a buyer and he’s closing shop for real. Benny’s eyebrows almost jump off the top of his head.

“Oh, holy shit, dude,’ he says. “That’s big.”

“Yeah,” says Usnavi. “The biggest, but keep it on the quiet till I’ve broke the news to Sonny and Vanessa and Ruben.”

“You ain’t told them yet? Why not?”

“I don’t really know,” says Usnavi, with a one-shoulder shrug. He rearranges some paper bags pointlessly. “It’s…what if they don’t get it? Well, Sonny will. But Vanessa always wanted out of the barrio, Ruben’s only been here for less than a year. I just, I need them to miss it properly. I want it to feel like it mattered to someone other than me.”

Benny’s very quiet while he thinks, and then he says, “maybe they wont get it the way you do. Who could? But I think give them some credit. This place is important to all of us. I can’t remember a time without it.” He smirks at Usnavi. “Hey, if nothin' else they’ll definitely miss all the free coffee. No wonder you’re closin', business model like that.”

“I don’t give free coffee to  _everyone_ ,” Usnavi argues, laughing. “Only the cute ones.”

“But you never gave me free coffee,” Benny points out.

“Yeahhh.”

“Dick,” says Benny, giving him the middle finger then reaching over the counter to turn it into a shoulder-pat. “But man, if I noticed you're bummed out within like three seconds then I’m surprised they haven’t called you out on it yet.”

It is kind of unusual, although they’ve not really seen each other much for them to notice - which, that’s unusual too but he’s been trying not to overthink it. “Everyone’s in some kinda headspace this week. Not really sure why. Maybe they caught my vibe without realizin'.” He hopes that’s not true. He hates the idea of bringing other people down. It always just turns into a big circle of down-bringing and everyone ends up feeding off each others misery for weeks.

And it don’t make sense to be this down in the first place, as if it came out of fucking nowhere. He signed the papers, didn’t he? Yeah, it’s a change, but he  _had_  been getting tired of running the store with things in the neighborhood so different. This is just a new kind of opportunity! His eyes are suddenly achy and itchy but he thinks he’s probably just tired. Or it’s just the weather getting to him, all this waking up when it’s still dark and closing up long after the early sunsets. Vitamin D deprivation, that’s a thing that happens. Good thing he’s closing shop, if you think about it that way. A chance to get out and get the daily recommended sunlight for once, instead of being stuck inside the store under fluorescents all day.

“Well if you’re givin' off a vibe all the more reason to tell them. You know they’d want to be there for you. 'Specially since it’s nearly—“

“Yeah, I know,” interrupts Usnavi before Benny can say it. “I’ll let Sonny know later. The other two are both comin' over tomorrow, I’ll tell them then.”

“Damn, though,” says Benny, contemplative. “End of an era. Have you thought about what's next?”

“Not really,” says Usnavi, because he doesn’t know how to explain that yeah, he’s thought _so what are you doing next, Usnavi_ and the only answer he got was in the form of his brain trying to escape out of the back of his head while screaming, which feels exactly as unpleasant as it sounds so he very quickly stopped thinking  _what next_  and just focused on  _what now?_  And  _what now_  is mopping the floor and cleaning out the coffee pot and wiping down the shelves, so he brushes off Benny’s questions and gets to work with twice the enthusiasm he normally would, hoping the energy of his movements will trick his thoughts into getting back on the usual hype.

***

**Wednesday**

After he breaks the news to Vanessa and Ruben, they ask him how he’s coping and he sort of wants to tell them about the whole brain-screaming thing, but Ruben looks so exhausted, they both look so worried and he just wants them to feel better. It’s not exactly like lying, if he just ignores the bad feelings and emphasizes the better ones. There’s truth to it when he tells them he wants to end on a high note, or that sometimes it’s just time to move on, so it comes out pretty genuine when he smiles and sings and talks animatedly to Ruben to try and pull him out of the funk he’s in.

It’s not lying or acting, both of which Usnavi is awful at. It’s doing the motions until you get to the mood you want, like practicing a dance until your body moves like water, and that’s Usnavi’s jam. Usnavi doesn’t like being sad, which doesn’t necessarily mean he is always happy. More he desperately  _wants_  to be happy, and that's something that takes effort in a world like this.

People don’t really understand, that he’s ditzy but he’s not naive, he’s optimistic but not innocent. Usnavi knows it deeply, how difficult life can be. It’s a choice, and not an easy one, to not be torn apart by it. Most folk like him either way, so he doesn’t bother to explain himself, to explain that it takes effort. It takes finding the good and drawing it out, patient and cautious like trying to coax one of the skittish stray cats that hangs around near the bodega to come get the food he always puts around the back for them. It takes finding a place to work holes in anxieties so that he can see behind them to know that even if his home is only his home for another month, or if his cousin is leaving next year, or if things are changing, at least not everything will change at once.

Here’s the good that he’s fixed his eyes on right now: he’s got Ruben and Vanessa, they’re safe and fine and here. The store is important but in the end it’s just bricks and memories, he shouldn't lose sight of the fact they’re standing here in front of him. He can figure out the rest of it later.

***

**Thursday**

Usnavi puts a sign on the door that explains the De la Vega Bodega is going out of business, thanks everybody for their custom over the years, tells them that he loves them with two exclamation points and a little smiley face at the end.

There’s customers who once knew Usnavi as a toddler, others who are barely older than that themselves, all kinds of people coming in to tell him how much they’ll miss the place or miss his coffee or miss Usnavi himself. It feels good, that his work could’ve been important in their lives, that he improved things in whatever ways he was able to with caffeine or a friendly face. It feels good that they liked him being around. That’s all he ever aimed to do, to build happiness and then share it.

Usnavi laughs at their nostalgic anecdotes, he thanks them for the time they’ve spent together. Some of them tell him they remember when his parents used to run the place, tell him that he did right by their name, and he just nods and smiles at them because he doesn’t trust his voice to answer those ones.

There’s other people come in who he barely recognizes at all. They ask with interest what it’s gonna be turned into after he goes, and Usnavi doesn’t like that. Imagining the store without himself in it makes him feel strange and incorporeal, like his body’s been taken away from him.

So there’s good points and there’s bad points and it’s only day one yet, but who has time to be sad when there's work to do anyway? And there’s so much work to do. He sits down to make a list after hours to wrangle it into something coherent.

He’s got the apartment upstairs till New Year’s, but the new owners want to start a refit on the store before Christmas, so he’s closing in two weeks. Technically he could’ve stayed living here if he'd renewed his lease but it would feel so wrong with his bodega being gutted and remade right underneath his nose. So aside from the everyday store stuff - because closing down doesn’t mean letting standards slip - there’s cancelling the ongoing deliveries, figuring out how to get rid of as much overstock as possible, packing up, maybe having to sell some shit or store it, finding a new apartment, finding a new job - and oh,  _shit_ , he’s never had to do either of those things in his whole life. How does it work? He’s never done a job application and he doesn't think he'll be good at it, has no idea how to be interviewed. Never figured out how to set up a new contract with a landlord, doesn’t know how to apartment hunt, what questions to ask or where to even start looking or how to avoid being scammed. How has he been independent for seven years and not learnt how to do any of this basic shit?  _Fuck_.

_Usnavi, relax,_ he scolds himself. He knows he’s going about this wrong. Nina and Abuela and Ruben have all told him before that he gets tangled up when he starts thinking too big picture. Break it down into smaller messes, that’s how Ruben always puts it, and most of the time that can help.

Right now all it’s doing is tangenting, creating more things to do without ever seeming to make the individual pieces smaller, until the list takes up two sides of paper, all scattered liberally with confused question marks and increasingly illegible writing. Usnavi’s wrist is cramping and he still hasn’t finished.

It’s overwhelming but Usnavi’s gotta stay upbeat. No time to freak out. No time to be sad. There’s so much work to do and that’s what Usnavi’s all about, right? Staying positive, working hard. There’s so much  _goddamn_  work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**F** **riday.**

**Vanessa**

“Yes, thank you…yes, I will. Thank you so much…I’ll let them know. Okay. Goodbye.”

Vanessa hangs up, exhales heavy so it puffs her cheeks out as she puts her phone in her pocket. Braids her hair then unbraids it and then takes her phone out again.

First she texts Usnavi - _about to get the train, be there asap -_ and then she calls Daniela.

“Hola, Vanessa, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I accepted the job,” she says, and immediately holds the phone away from her ear; as predicted, Dani’s shriek of excitement buzzes loud and shrill through the speaker. “Dios mío, Dani.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Dani cries. “Ah, chica, we always said you were going places.”  
  
“No, that’s what we always said about Nina,” Vanessa corrects her, blushing furiously at the compliment.

“About you too, Vanessa,” Dani says. “I never doubted you for a second. I'm so proud of you!”  
  
Vanessa, to her horror, tears up right there in the middle of the fucking street. “Yes, okay, well. Thanks, I guess,” she says, ignoring Dani’s knowing laughter.

“Oh, I can’t wait to let everyone know!”  
  
“No, you can’t! Not yet.”  
  
“You still haven’t told them?” Dani sounds disapproving.

“It’s…I’m gonna, okay? I wanted to make the decision for myself. But I will tell them.” She pauses. “Not today, though.”  
  
“No,” agrees Dani. “Probably not today. But you know I’ll explode if you don’t hurry up, so don’t take too long about it, linda _._  Well done. And send Usnavi my love, won’t you?”  
  
“Claro.”

***

**Ruben**

There’s no reply all day. He barely slept and barely ate and could barely function teaching classes, all for no reason because there’s no response.

Josh did say it was a long while ago when Jason contacted him. Number’s probably changed or for all he knows Jason’s dead or something but either way, his phone stays silent. Blackout will have to wait and Ruben is…relieved, actually. Because now he’s thinking it over, the logistics would have been unpleasant. Imagine having to talk to Jason again. Imagine having to tell Vanessa and Usnavi how stupid he’s just been.

And because Ruben is relieved and because life hates Ruben, at the exact same time he’s having this thought, his phone buzzes.

**Jason(?):  
** \- Is this some kind of joke?

Ruben’s heart drops out of his chest.

**Jason(?):  
** \- Ruben, is that really you?

He stares at it. He’s not even panicking. He thinks perhaps he should be but it’s more than he can process.

The vibration of a third text makes him startle badly, but this time it’s Vanessa:  _are you on your way yet?_

Ruben types out  _be there soon_ and sends it to both her and Usnavi, then he switches his phone to airplane mode so nobody else can message him, more unsettled by how incredibly calm he feels than Jason's text itself. He can’t think about this right now. There’s other things to deal with.

But there’s a barely audible part of him buried far, far down inside that’s screaming  _Ruben, what did you_ ** _do?!_**

***

**Usnavi**

Vanessa and Ruben are both on their way but Usnavi wants to get there first. He pulls down the grate, tries not to think that every time he does this is one day closer to the last. Abuela’s mural smiles out at him, bright and colorful and gentle. He knows what she’d tell him.

“I know, Abuela,” he says, kissing two fingers and raising them up to the sky in salute. “I’m tryin’.”

Usnavi locks the grate and checks it, picks his stuff up off the floor where he left it, and then he’s on his way. He forgot his gloves but he can only tuck one hand in his pocket, though the other is warm from the thermos. It’s cool and crisp and clear out, and the world is washed with gray. The winter seems to have put anyone else off from visiting: as he walks the path there’s nobody but him here that he can see.

And here they are.

“Hola,” he says. “Soy yo.”

Usnavi crouches, pulls off his backpack, and carefully takes out what he brought with him, unwrapping the protective layers of newspaper. Green mug on the left for Mamá, blue on the right for Pai. He pours their coffee out, adds an extra sugar for his father, a pinch of cinnamon for his mother.  He'll drink his own straight from the flask.

The ground is cold and slightly damp but Usnavi sits down anyway, equidistant between the two stones surrounded by a silence same as the last time he saw them, sitting equidistant between their two hospital beds seven years ago today.

“Hice lo que pude,” he says, voice cracking. “Lo siento. Lo intenté.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: a short interlude, because they need it]

**Usnavi.**

Ruben and Vanessa arrive almost at the same time. Out the corner of his eye Usnavi can see Ruben running to catch up with Vanessa as she walks up the path towards where Usnavi is sitting. She doesn’t slow her pace, but she holds out a hand behind her for Ruben to take hold of.  _They_  both remembered gloves. Usnavi tucks his hands deeper in his coat pockets, thermos now empty with no warmth left to give.

There's a missing thing like a chasm too deep to fit inside him, like a pocket dimension stored in his chest to make more space for the heartache. He hopes his parents would still be proud of him, even though the store is closing.

Ruben and Vanessa come up behind Usnavi, hang back, wait for him to talk first.

“You know when my parents came over it was summer?” he says, not looking at them. “Mamá loved New York in the summer, and she said she always knew I would too, ever since the first day they were here. They were looking off the boat they were on at all the other boats and readin' all the names out loud, and Mamá was thinking about summertime and Pai said,  _look at that one._ And she said,  _what's it called? Usnavi?_  And right as she said it that’s when she felt me kick for the first time. So my dad said that’s what they should name me.”

He says it rhythmic, like reciting, he knows the story well. Vanessa sits down next to him, ignoring that the ground is damp, and ignoring that she’s heard him say it a thousand times before.

“Pai always said, it was warm and bright and the world never seemed so big before that day, and the sky looked just as blue as it did at home.” Usnavi looks into the overcast sky rapidly darkening to early nighttime. “They never got used to the winters here.”

Ruben sits down on his other side, closest to Usnavi’s mothers’s gravestone. 

“Hola, señor y señora De la Vega,” he says softly. “Me llamo Rubén, y tu hijo es el mejor hombre que conozco.”

Usnavi blinks hard with sudden emotion, though he isn’t crying. He never cries here, not even at their funeral. Considering how easily he cries everywhere else, he’s not really sure why. Maybe all the tears get lost in that pocket dimension chasm, too far down or inside or away to make it to his eyes.

“Oh, they woulda loved you, Ruben,” says Vanessa. “Fastest way to win them over, sayin' nice things about Usnavi.”

“Is that what  _you_  did?” Ruben asks her, leaning against Usnavi’s shoulder. Vanessa laughs. So does Usnavi.

“Not quite,” he says. “One time when I was like six my mom was looking after us two and Nina, and Vanessa threw a kid’s lunch into a duckpond because he pushed me over. Mamá adored her forever after that.”

“I stand by my actions,” Vanessa says. “I’d do it again now, if I had to.”

“Don’t very often get pushed over by six year olds any more, to be honest with you,” says Usnavi.

“I’d still do it,” she says, fiercely.

Ruben reaches out and carefully brushes a piece of moss off the engraved lines of Usnavi’s mamá’s grave. “Está en buenos manos,” he tells the stone in front of him.

“Lo amamos tanto,” adds Vanessa, to his father’s grave. The three of them sit until the sky's too dark to read his parents names.

“Can we go home?” Usnavi asks quietly, and they nod. He pours the cooled-down coffee in his parent’s mugs out to soak into the soil, as close as they’ll ever get to drinking it again, carefully packs the mugs away making sure they won’t jostle and break. Vanessa and Ruben both reach to pull him standing. His legs have gone numb from sitting on the cold floor. He’s not sure how long they've been here. “Ow. Legs.”

“Usnavi, your hands are  _freezing_ ,” says Vanessa disapprovingly as she hauls him up. Ruben immediately takes his gloves off and shoves them in his direction. Usnavi protests and pushes them back.

“Hey, I told them you were in good hands,” Ruben insists. “So that means not letting  _yours_  get frostbite.”

In the end they compromise: Usnavi takes one glove from Ruben and one from Vanessa, and the hands that they leave bare he takes, then tucks both his and theirs together into his coat pockets. The strange feeling of distance from this past week is nowhere to be found. It’s an awkward way to walk back home, and he knows he’s holding way too tight, but at least they all stay warm.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ruben.**

**Jason:  
** \- How have you been since everything?

Ruben spins idly around on the chair inside his office, not sure if the nausea’s from motion sickness or the messages. Now he’s the one ghosting on Jason, who isn’t letting that deter him, sending several texts a day across this weekend because some things never fucking change. At least there’s only one of him so far this time.

It’s depressing that there’s some part of Ruben that adds  _and at least he’s asking how you are,_ wavering on the professionalism that he swore he’d stick to in the face of it. No. Remember what Usnavi’s told him: “Ruben, people being bare minimum decent isn’t some kind of favor, it’s what you should  _expect_.” Remember what Vanessa’s told him: “Ruben, Jason’s a manipulative little rodent and I want to throw him into the sun.  Ignore Jason until he answers the question that Ruben actually asked him. Don’t let him have the satisfaction. Ruben hunches over his desk, tries to grade some papers while his phone is staying silent. He gets about twenty minutes.

**Jason:  
** \- I tried to find you a while back but then I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to talk to me.

He tried to find him. Jason tried to find him. Why would Jason ever need to find him?

No, he  _knew_  this already, Josh told him, it’s no reason to start spiralling. And it doesn’t matter what Jason needs any more. No  _shit_ that Ruben doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s hardly asking him over for coffee and a catch-up now. Ruben just wants his fucking research. His red pen scrawls quickly down the papers, messy checkmarks and notes in the margin where necessary.

**Jason:  
** \- I’ve been wanting to talk to you.  
\- Why aren’t you answering?  
\- Ian’s still gone, he’s gone for good, if that’s what you’re worried about.  
\- Fine. I’m assuming this was just some sick joke and you’re not Ruben at all, so thanks, I guess, and fuck you.

In theory it’s just as possible now for Ruben to not talk to him as it was before Jason responded. But when Ruben didn’t think Jason had even got his message, the problem was out of his hands. Now he’s got a choice. Here’s his chance to drop it, block the number, pretend it never happened.

**Ruben:  
** \- Dr Cole,  
This is Dr Marcado. The subject of my inquiry was made clear in my first message. Please confirm that you are willing to share your data and participate in further research for Blackout, which will be conducted via a third party.

**Jason:  
** \- Prove that you are who you say you are. Tell me something only Ruben would know.

Like what? Like describe how Jason’s hands feel closing round Ruben’s neck? Like talk about the way Jason used to shake whenever he transitioned and how the sensation sometimes echoes round Ruben’s skeleton whenever he starts shaking himself now as though Ian’s worked his way into his bones? Like tell him how one time he kissed Ruben’s cheek and called him a genius and Ruben would have done anything he asked in that moment, even while Jason was telling him he didn’t want to spend his free time stuck with Ruben?

**Ruben:  
** \- The compound to prevent transition required an implanted electrode in order to allow it to cross the blood-brain barrier, and the platform was titanium.

**Jason:  
** \- I’ll sign the form if you hear me out first.

It shouldn’t be unexpected. It shouldn’t have any kind of impact that what Ruben wants and what Jason want are on very different wavelengths and that Jason’s not going to budge until things go the direction that he’s pulling. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. And Ruben also wants to know so badly what Jason could possibly think they need to talk about. God, why hasn’t he outgrown this curiosity when it’ll only get him killed?

Do not engage in personal relationships with the participant. Let it go before it gets out of hand.

**Incoming call: Jason Cole.**

Ruben throws his phone across the room.

***

Block the number, unblock the number, block the number, cycle through moods. His phone screen is cracked from when he threw it. An hour after Jason tries to call him Ruben goes from the sickening cold of fear to a hot and feverish fury. This isn’t fair. This is bullshit. He’s going to get what he wants.

He goes to his block list and reinstates Jason’s number, then sets up a throwaway email and a new Dropbox account.

**Ruben:  
** \- The necessary paperwork can be downloaded in PDF format at  https://goo.gl/6fYyT1[  
](https://goo.gl/6fYyT1) \- Please attach the completed document to an email and send to  r.m.marcado@gmail.com .

Fear then frustration then tiredness then resignation and repeat, and through all of them he’s on edge waiting for his phone to go off.

**Jason:  
** \- I just want to speak with you. And I don’t want to do it by text.  
\- Please answer.

**Incoming call: Jason Cole.**

Declined. Ruben copies and pastes the same message as last time and sends it again. In a moment of despair he thuds his head against the desk, and full-body flinches with his forehead still resting against the wood at a tentative knock on his office door.

“Sorry, Dr. Marcado, um, we have a meeting now?” 

It’s Alicia, one of his first year students. Ruben nods and waves her in and hopes she doesn’t notice him shaking. Also kind of hopes she didn’t notice him hitting his head into the table, since he tries to give off the impression of someone who has his shit at least a fraction of the way together in front of his students.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, in a very gentle voice.

Of course she fucking notices. Alicia’s an anxious girl herself in a way that’s familiar to Ruben from childhood, prone to the kind of perfectionism that leads to panic, so maybe she’s more tuned to his mood by nature. But he’s also not so optimistic as to hope his students haven’t googled his name. It only takes one person for word to spread.  Responses are mixed: with some more than others they’re more careful with his personal space, and some more than others stare too hard at where his sleeves sometimes ride up at the wrist. There are those times that he’s walked into class to find a group gathered around a screen whispering with wide-eyed expressions, only for someone to slam the laptop closed when they notice he’s arrived, and then everyone fails to make eye contact with him for the rest of class. It would be nice to think they were all just looking at porn or something, but Ruben’s not naive.

It happens far less often now the year’s progressed. It’ll start all over next year with the new batch of admissions. And every year after that, and every new job, and even new friends who look him up out of idle curiosity, like what happened with Nina.

He’s not going to get away from it, that much he’s accepted, but is it too much to ask that Ruben can use his own research, the thing he lost years and his body and the illusion of privacy over? Can’t Jason even give him this?

_This really isn’t healthy_ , something that sounds a bit like Vanessa and a bit like Usnavi and a lot like his ma tells him.

Maybe not, but Jason owes him a future. It’s not the best decision, but it’s only texts and calls and Ian’s gone so it’s not like it’s going to hurt anyone. Jason's running some kind of game and Ruben doesn't want to play, but shit, he wants to win it anyway. Ruben wants his work and he’s going to fucking get it. Ruben’s allowed to want things now, that’s what they all keep telling him.

***

**Usnavi**

Usnavi’s not been sleeping.

The shelves in the store get slowly emptier now that he’s not ordering new delivery to fill them, and the spaces in his head get more crowded. Every day, customers reminiscing about this time and that time, and Sonny dealing with his own mourning process by rambling out what might be a full day-by-day recollection of their entire lives in this building. Usnavi tries to commit them all to memory so he’s got them there for when he won’t hear them any more.

He tries to sleep and there’s _what are you going to do next?_  getting mixed in with the stories like trying to watch two televisions simultaneously, there’s a list of things he told himself he’d do that day that he always ends up just avoiding. He’s started trying to pack the store and his apartment even though he’s got nowhere to go to, so half his life’s in boxes that he keeps tripping over, there’s forgotten things to uncover in every corner and closet that mark the years he’s spent here.

When Vanessa asks how the apartment hunt is going he lets his eyes go comically round and makes exaggerated  _uugh_  sounds, flopping all over the counter expressively. She laughs and says “tell me about it. Let me know if you need me to come yell at any landlords for you.”

When Ruben asks if he needs help finding a job Usnavi says, “will  _you_  hire me?”

Ruben says, “in what capacity?”

“To stand near you and look pretty?” Usnavi suggests.

“But I get that for free all the time,” Ruben points out, pulling him in for a kiss.

They shouldn’t need to help him, there’s no reason he can’t just get it done himself, although even the idea of sitting down and trying to write a list makes his writing hand start spasming. He’s never been one to procrastinate but now things like  _find a job_  and  _find somewhere to live_ can always wait till tomorrow, except not doing it doesn’t stop him thinking about it, thinking about so many things.

Usually after a couple of days, the anniversary of his parent's death turns into the normal quiet version of grief that’s easier to live with instead of persisting at top volume, and usually his lungs don’t hurt at the sight of the mural on the grate. He figures since they’re hurting anyway he might as well go all in, picks up his occasional stress-cigarette habit in earnest so that’s another thing to worry about, brushing his teeth and changing his clothes and spraying himself with deodorant several times a day so the other two don’t find him out.

So this is Usnavi right now, and this why he’s already got his eyes open staring at the ceiling on the night that Ruben wakes up screaming.

***

It’s a miracle nobody calls the cops. Ruben screams so loud Usnavi touches his fingers to his own throat with a sympathetic grimace, and Ruben won’t open his eyes and he arches up off the bed like he’s trying to escape himself. No words like sometimes he wakes up shouting, a one-sided dialogue to add grim detail to the narrative he’s told them. He’s not begging or arguing or defending himself. It’s just pain, as closely translated from tactile to audio as it’s possible to get, so vivid in transmission that Usnavi feels like he could shut his eyes and on his own body draw a perfect accurate map of every single wound on Ruben’s.

The volume at least dies down fairly soon after he wakes up, if it could be called waking up when he still won’t open his eyes and doesn’t know they’re there. They don’t know what to do: his muted gasps keep going, his breathing won’t even out, and it’s bad enough and long enough that Vanessa mutters something to Usnavi about an ambulance, albeit half-heartedly. Ruben in a hospital being touched by strangers isn’t something either of them would inflict on him right now. 

It ends only because it has to eventually, Usnavi and Vanesa helplessly sat watching the whole time. They pass Ruben extra clothes to put on top of his pajamas as soon as he’s aware they’re there. Vanessa turns away at his request and Usnavi leaves the room entirely so they won’t see him getting dressed, he doesn’t want to be seen.

Usnavi makes tea instead of coffee for once from a barely-used box of chamomile, adds honey, cries to himself while the water boils with that repressive strangulation feel of trying to keep crying quiet. He turns on the faucet and splashes his face before he goes back to the bedroom so his eyes don’t look all red.

Ruben’s wearing two extra layers of everything and Usnavi’s hat and the entire duvet wrapped around him so only his face is peeking out when Usnavi gets back to his room, and his chest is visibly rising and falling too harshly even through all that. He takes the mug Usnavi offers. It disappears with Ruben’s hands under the duvet and in the quietest whisper hetells Vanessa “it’s nothing, it’s a dream, that’s all.”

“You’ve had bad dreams before,” says Vanessa. Her hands are shaking so Usnavi reaches out and holds them. Ruben doesn’t want them to touch him but at least they can touch each other, a lifeline to hold onto even though they’re not the ones who were drowning. “I’ve never heard you sound like that.”

“It was a  _really_  bad dream,” says Ruben, and he sips his tea slightly awkwardly while trying to still keep his hands under the duvet. He makes a tiny noise of relief. “This is good, Usnavi.”

“Don’t talk, querido, save your voice,” Usnavi tells him. It’s good the tea is helping but it’s still stupidly inadequate. There’s something pressing in on them and all Usnavi can ever do to help seems to be just adding hot water to stuff in mugs in various combinations.

***

“You look insanely stressed,” Vanessa tells him as she comes through the store for her pre-work coffee in the morning, after listening to him fuss and fret about Ruben’s shadowed eyes and drawn face and last night. Ruben took the day off work, but went to spend it at his own place, wanting to be alone.

“It was a long night,” he replies, and she makes an emphatic sound of agreement.

He thinks about telling her how  _many_  nights he’s been spending awake recently, watching her breathing, counting the scars on Ruben’s skin in the orange streetlamp reflections while his head hums like a failing striplight, making sure they’re both still there while everything else around him changes. Or about the nights they spent all at their own places when he wakes up and has to lie on his hands to stop himself from calling them just to check that they’re okay. He thinks about telling her that so much seems like it’s fallen away that it's as if his life’s turned from a balance beam to a tightrope. Now Ruben’s been drifting from them too, and the rope is getting thinner. Usnavi doesn’t know how to stay upright on it.

But Vanessa’s tired and scared already as well, and anyway Usnavi always ends up fine in the end. He’s good at being happy. It’s kind of his whole  _thing_. Ruben needs more practice. If they figure out what’s wrong then they can help to guide his way.

He tells her the most important part, that he’s worried about Ruben, and tired of waiting for shit to go down. Vanessa doesn’t say anything to the last part, but she cups his face in both her hands and looks at him deep, like Abuela used to do. It makes him feel more like his body is attached to him than he has for a while now. It makes him miss Abuela, too.

***

**Vanessa**

“I’m just worried about Ruben, is all,” says Usnavi when she tells him he looks stressed. “I wish he’d tell us whats going on in his head instead of trying to deal all by himself.”

“I know,” says Vanessa, slumping low against the counter. “Me too. But people can’t always share things, Usnavi.”

She wishes she knew how to tap into Ruben’s thoughts and siphon off whatever made last night happen. She wishes she was like Usnavi, everything out on the surface, so that she could make that kind of connection that would let her actually feel like she was helping, let her be something softer than she is instead of always feeling like the defense system looking outward.

Or no, maybe she doesn’t. Ruben’s in a state and Vanessa’s been thinking in circles - do something, do nothing, stay, leave, be patient, be demanding and make Ruben tell her what’s going on, she doesn’t even know any more. And like always Usnavi is a mirror, reflecting Vanessa’s tense shoulders and developing a wicked pair of sympathy-eyebags to match Ruben’s because he can’t help but feel what they feel, and he’s still bummed out about selling the bodega, and it all looks kind of exhausting. She keeps meaning to have a proper conversation about how he’s feeling about the store, but there’s so much already going on and whenever she has chance to bring up the subject Usnavi only shrugs and says “yeah, I guess I’m pretty busy with everything”.

It looks exhausting to be either of them, really. Vanessa doesn’t feel things less than they do, and of course she hates to see them struggle, but at least she can put it all in a box to sort out slowly instead of it suffusing her whole system at once like a gas leak.

“But it’s  _hurting_  him not to share,” says Usnavi. “And…things feel weird. That’s not just me, right?”

“Depends. How’d you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “You know that feeling when you were a kid and watched too many scary movies and every time you go to open a door for a while after you can really clearly imagine the monster behind it? Like that, except with everythin'.”

“Like there’s somethin' bad waitin'?” she says, with a frown. It’s sometimes hard to follow the way Usnavi tries to explain things but he waves his arms excitedly like she’s hit it on the head.

“Yeah, exactly! Have you noticed it too?”

“There’s a shitty atmosphere for sure,” she says. “I don’t know specifically.”

But now they’ve put a name to it, it sort of seems to fit.

“Well, I do,” he says. “That’s absolutely what it is, somethin’s going down. And I just wish it would get over and done with. I hate not knowing what’s happenin'. I just…wish it was all out in the open, y’know? Then we can deal with it and move on.”

Ouch. If he were the kind of guy to play passive-aggressive she’d assume that was a dig at her.

***

Guilt twists around Vanessa’s stomach for hours after she heads back to her place, because she’d been hoping Usnavi wouldn’t realize there’s stuff he doesn’t know yet. Not that she can help whatever’s going on with Ruben, and obviously he’s gonna notice  _that_  because the guy woke them both up screaming. But she’s also pretty sure she’s adding to the problem and she should have anticipated that Usnavi would be sharp-eyed enough to spot it, because when has he ever not been? Okay, he might not  _know_  that Vanessa’s got some stuff waiting too, but he’s always been more intuitive than his conscious can keep up with. If he can feel that something’s wrong and if they’re all already unhappy, can she keep using  _I don’t want to upset them_ as an excuse to not tell them?

And is she a bad person for still being excited to go? Entirely separate to their problems here, Vanessa wants to do it, but it feels wrong to be excited at the moment, like laughing at a funeral. Or more like pointing at the corpse and saying “fuck this guy anyway, am I right?” then walking out halfway through the service to go play laser tag instead.

It’s so unfair, and she feels like a child for even thinking that, but it  _is_. As much as she wants to help them, she also wants them to be happy with her. Vanessa worked hard and she earned this in return for her effort. She could be really good at it, and it could be really awesome. Dani was so thrilled for her, Nina too. It’s not fair to have to hide her happiness just because the boys are sad. They’re not _only_ supposed to share the bad stuff, after all.

She’s waiting for the right moment but every day she waits it’s gonna be less like good-but-bittersweet news and more like a secret. Didn’t Dani tell her that it’s sometimes better to just  _do_? Every day increases the chance of them accidentally wandering across a saved search for plane tickets or overhearing a conversation with Nina about accommodation. Vanessa refuses to regret doing the thing that’s best for her, but that means it’s time to stop screwing around with excuses and also do the thing she’s dreading. They deserve her honesty.

God, she hopes they understand, she's terrified they won't. But if she says something, clears the air on her side, maybe Ruben will say something about whatever's on his mind too. Someone has to start the ball rolling. She’s not gonna sit back and wait for it to be someone else just because she’d prefer it that way.

There’s probably a way to approach it delicate but fuck it, that ain't her style.

**Vanessa:  
** \- alright knuckle up chucklefucks we’ve all noticed shit's been weird recently and i think it’s time we solved it  
\- tomorrow when we’ve all had some sleep we’re going to sit down and have a Conversation

**Usnavi:  
** \- a capital c Conversation?

**Vanessa:  
** \- you better believe it's a capital c

**Usnavi:  
** \- are Conversations the ones where you yell at us while telling us how angry you arent?

**Ruben:  
** \- no, those are CONVERSATIONS

**Usnavi:  
** \- ¡¡CONVERSACIONES!! >:0 >:0

**Ruben:  
** \- *flips hair, crosses arms, turns away*

**Vanessa:  
** \- i do not ever yell at you  
\- i yell near you while addressing the underlying message of the yell towards you

 **Ruben:  
** \- the most minute of differences. but yes, you’re right.  
\- there’s some stuff i need to tell you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ruben’s first section takes place at the same time as Usnavi and Vanessa’s sections from the last chapter, just to be clear. I know I should put days on them but I don’t feel like working it all out, and that’s my only reason.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning for a very vivid sort-of-flashback/dream about Jamaica]

**Ruben**

**Jason:  
** \- Ruben, answer your phone.

**Incoming call: Jason Cole**

**Missed call: Jason Cole**  


**Ruben:  
** \- Please send the completed document to  r.m.marcado@gmail.com

**Jason:  
** \- I’ve told you I’m not filling it out until you talk to me.

**Ruben  
** \- Please send the completed document to  r.m.marcado@gmail.com

**Jason:  
** \- Just answer your fucking phone, Ruben.

**Ruben:  
** \- just sign the fucking form, jason

**Jason:  
** \- I’m in New York.

It’s like being hit by lightning. How Frankenstein’s monster must have felt on the table at his first moment of awareness, all nerves ringing active simultaneous under a searing electric heat, and pain, and confusion.

_Run_ , he thinks, and then  _where to?_ , and then  _what the fuck?!_

**Jason:  
** \- I wasn’t going to come but I know that’s where you are.  
\- I’m not going to track you down or anything.  
\- Just, I’m in New York and I'd like to meet up with you.

How long has he  _known_?

***

Ruben doesn’t panic.Jason’s in New York and Ruben doesn’t panic.

He goes to Usnavi’s, instead, and pretends he already ate when Usnavi offers him food because he feels too sick to eat, and pretends to watch TV when they all cuddle up after dinner. He lets them sit on either side of him, surrounding him, and he can feel them leaning back a little to glance at each other every so often when he doesn’t speak for two straight hours.

Jason’s in New York.

“Ruben, are you okay?” asks Vanessa, softly, after the millionth time having a telepathic conversation with Usnavi over Ruben’s head.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being weird. Don’t worry about it.”

Usnavi smooths both thumbs gently just under Ruben’s eyes like he’s trying to wipe away the tiredness there, and gives Ruben a Look.

Ruben thinks about saying _Jason’s in New York_  and even after a day on repeat the sentence still makes so little sense that he can’t get it out. Jason can’t be here. Jason is Philadelphia and Ian is Jamaica and New York is for Usnavi and Vanessa and now it’s Ruben’s, too. It’s  _their_  city, they can’t possibly exist in the same place.

Ruben tries to picture Jason standing in the bodega or hanging out on one of the fire escapes and his mind makes bewildered dissonant noises.

“Yeah, what’s your point?” he says instead of mentioning Jason, touching his own fingers disapprovingly to Usnavi’s matching dark circles. Usnavi laughs. Vanessa braids her hair then immediately unbraids it, a blank-faced look that he knows means she’s trying to hide that she feels anxious. About Ruben? Or Usnavi? Or maybe something else, he’s been so out of it since he started texting Jason that her apartment could’ve burned down and he probably wouldn’t have realized. Shit, he’s slacking on the boyfriend front.

Usnavi stretches, gets to his feet. “Maybe we could  _both_  use some beauty sleep. Vanessa, you can come along too, but I kinda think it’s cheating to start out looking like you do. Honestly, how’s a boy supposed to compete with you two, hm?”

“Eh, I’m tryna build up a headstart,” she says, letting Usnavi pull her up. “What if you guys actually start getting eight hours a night some day and end up prettier than me? I’d be ruined.”

  
***

Sometimes Ruben dreams in half-memories like a play that hasn’t been rehearsed properly. He’s not always standing in the right place. He’s not always saying the right lines. Tonight they’ve brought in understudies for the role of Ruben: sometimes his part being played by Vanessa and sometimes Usnavi, and they interchange between each other while he watches from a distance. Sometimes it’s him there, as it really happened.

Location: interior, a warehouse, indistinctly. He always wonders whether Ian already knew this place was here or if he just drove around looking for somewhere suitable. It’s a cliched setting, but since Ian’s got a touch of the movie-villain melodramatic he fits perfectly in this room. Dark but for one flickering pale lightbulb. Ian drags a metal table to the weak circle of light underneath it, with a scraping sound that makes Ruben’s teeth ache.

Ruben watches Ian grab Vanessa’s arm and pull her into the light, Ruben stands unseen next to Usnavi and urges him to run before it’s too late but nothing happens, and Ruben meets Ian’s eyes with dread.

“Strip,” Ian instructs him, and Ruben goes cold, and he says very quietly “I don’t want to.”  
  
“Wasn’t asking,” says Ian, and now Ruben’s not there and Usnavi’s shaking hands unbutton his favorite red shirt,Vanessa’s hair falls around her face as she stares down at the floor with her arms folded protectively around herself and Ian says “ _look_  at me, Ruben. You don’t get to hide from this.”

“ _Please_ ,” Ruben implores, standing in just his pants, hiding his face behind his hands. Ian grabs his wrists, forces his arms down. Ian hooks his fingers behind the buckle on Ruben's belt but lets go without undoing it, wants to make Ruben do this himself.

“All of it, Rubes,” he says. Ruben watches invisible from a point somewhere above as Vanessa’s skirt hits the floor, as Usnavi takes his hat off and clings to it desperately. Ian throws the hat to the floor and shoves Vanessa roughly till she’s sitting on the table, where she hunches in on herself, Ian’s fingertips draw a shallow inverted triangle just under Usnavi’s exposed collarbone. And suddenly it’s  _Ruben’s_  hand laying flat on Usnavi’s chest to push him down, it’s Ruben’s voice saying in a mocking singsong, “are you gonna be good, Usnavi? The right answer is yes.”

Ruben doesn’t know which one of them is on the table and which one of them is holding the knife when it breaks skin. It doesn’t make a difference. It hurts the same anyway.

***

And then he’s in Usnavi’s apartment and he doesn’t know where Ian or — wait, there, there’s Vanessa, she’s wrapping the duvet tight around him and there’s Usnavi, across the room so as not to crowd him. They’re safe. They’re safe. So is Ruben.

“Fuck,” he says, hoarsely, and he can see both of them slump down with relief when he speaks. His throat feels like he’s been eating splinters.

There’s a weight on his head. He puts his hand up to it, feels the familiar fabric of a flat cap. Checks Usnavi and Vanessa over to be sure: no blood, they’re  _safe_ , and he’s not bleeding either. Nobody’s hurt, he didn’t hurt anyone.  Vanessa’s hand moves, maybe not even towards him, but he jerks backward and says “ _don’t_ ” anyway. Usnavi lays some clothes out on the bed, keeping a distance. Vanessa passes them to Ruben one by one, careful not to touch his fingertips with hers.

“Don’t look at me,” he says in his ragged voice. “Please don’t look.”

Vanessa turns away. Usnavi murmurs something about tea and leaves the room.

“What happened to my voice,” Ruben whispers, though he knows the answer already.

“You were screaming,” Vanessa says, carefully blank. With her back to him he can see how tense and tight her shoulders are pulled. “You were screamin' so loud and then you just weren’t breathin' properly and you didn’t know we were here for so long. I nearly called an ambulance.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s so fucking glad they didn’t call an ambulance. He finishes dressing, wraps the duvet back around himself.

“Don’t,” says Vanessa, almost begging. “Don’t apologize. What—do you know what set it off?”

Everything. Jason. The fact he thought he had control over what’s going on right now and he really, really doesn’t.

“It’s nothing, it’s a dream, that’s all,” he says, as Usnavi comes back in and hands him a mug. If it wasn’t so hard to talk he’d tell her he wasn’t apologizing for the flashback, he’s apologizing because this is his own fault.He’s the one who spoke to Jason first, and now Jason is in New York, and he knows that Ruben is here.

***

Ruben goes to spend the day at his place, so he doesn’t have to be looked at, so he doesn’t have to look at them and remember what his subconscious did to them, so that he can nap and if he wakes up like that again he won’t have to explain just yet.

It’s not until past 10pm that he dares check his phone. There’s eight missed calls from Jason, three voicemails, fourteen unread messages.

There’s also a message just popped up in their relationship group chat.

**Vanessa:  
** \- alright knuckle up chucklefucks we’ve all noticed shit's been weird recently and i think it’s time we solved it  
\- tomorrow when we’ve all had some sleep we’re going to sit down and have a Conversation

God, he loves her.  Usually Ruben can’t handle “we’re need to talk” or “we’re going to discuss this later”. Uncertainty is something he really can’t deal with. But he definitely knows what they’ll be talking about, and it’s such a relief, because he knows he has no choice but to tell them about Jason, he doesn’t have to keep making flimsy excuses to himself about why he hasn’t done that yet. He can’t keep telling himself to deal with it alone, he doesn’t have to do this on his own. Not now Jason’s here in the city. It’s too much to carry alone. 

He doesn’t sleep well at all that night, but at least he doesn’t dream he’s hurting them.

***

**Usnavi**

They’re meeting at Ruben’s apartment because Usnavi’s place is currently a nightmare of packing. Usnavi knocks to givea heads up, opens the door with his own key, finds himself lurking awkwardly in Ruben’s living room doorway instead of immediately sprawling all over the couch where Ruben’s sitting crosslegged like he usually would.

“Hey,” says Ruben, not looking up from his phone.

“Hey there,” says Usnavi. He points at the sofa. “Can I-?”  
  
Why is he asking permission?

“Sure, sure,” says Ruben, waving at the couch next to him. Usnavi sits. Tries not to think too much of it that Ruben’s still not looked at him yet.

Ruben sighs at whatever he's been reading, sets his phone down on the table, and says “hi” again. Finally leans his cheek in so that Usnavi can kiss him hello.

“Oh, you fucked your screen,” Usnavi says, noticing it and placing his own cracked phone next to Ruben’s to compare. “Now we match!”

“Mmhm,” says Ruben, and falls silent, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

Usnavi tries to think of something interesting to say and comes up empty.

“So, hows it goin'?” he asks. Weak.

“I’m alright,” says Ruben. “…you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool, I’m cool.”

Usnavi takes his hat off, twists it round his restless hands with his thumb following the line of stitching at the brim. What the fuck is all this forced small talk? It feels like an awkward first date, except that he never had an awkward first date with Ruben. The first time he met Ruben, Usnavi babbled every thought in his head at him just to see how many times he could make Ruben laugh (three, in the first conversation). The first time he told Ruben how he really felt about him they ended up fucking. So this is definitely new and shitty.

_Nobody feels good before a We Need To Talk talk,_  he tells himself,  _and the whole reason we’re here is because Ruben’s been messed up recently, it’s not some kinda omen or whatever_ , but it doesn’t ease that prickling sensation he’s started getting in his lungs multiple times a day. Maybe he needs to cut back down on the cigarettes.

The prickling gets worse as Vanessa finally arrives, and sits in the chair opposite them with serious, nervous eyes.

***

**Vanessa**

Okay so she’s the one who called this meeting but wow, Vanessa does not know how to start it off. There’s a significant part of her subconscious entirely dedicated to manufacturing her life to ensure that Conversations like this don’t ever have to come about in the first place, because she hates them and everyone else hates them and someone always has to kick them off but nobody wants to and it all sucks.

“So—“ her and Ruben begin at the same time, then both immediately stop talking to let the other speak.

There’s a silence.

“We’re having a conversation,” she announces. May as well get the easy stuff out of the way first.

“And might I just say it’s goin’ swell so far,” says Usnavi. She shushes him.

“Ruben,” she asks desperately. “You got a thing, right?”  
  
His mouth works silently for a second but eventually he just makes an  _eeehh?_  sound and shrugs. “You first? Please?”

“Goddammit,” she mutters. Okay. She can do this. She’s a big grown up girl who can tie her own sneakers and say one honest goddamn sentence to the men she loves.

“I got offered a new job,” she rushes out.

“Oh my god, Vanessa, that’s awesome!” says Usnavi, but Ruben’s looking at her keenly.

“It is awesome, and you’re so nervous about telling us this  _why_?” he asks.

She inspects a lock of hair for split ends. “It’s…in California.”

“What,” says Usnavi, flatly.

“Not forever,” she clarifies. “I’d come back. It’s doing my job plus a bunch of photography stuff, and I’d get paid more, and. Yeah. California.”

“When do you have to decide by?” Ruben asks, looking stunned.

“I…already accepted it, on Friday.”

She winces in anticipation of how that’s gonna go down. Usnavi’s already had the  _I don’t wanna move in together right now_  discussion before where she made her position on having her own freedom pretty clear, so he should get it, but she knows Ruben still isn’t one hundred percent convinced they’re not gonna ditch him at a moment’s notice, and this might look an hell of a lot like ditching.

He breathes out heavily and says “for how long?”

“Only four months, five max, depending. It starts in mid-January, so I’d be here for Christmas and New Year’s and Usnavi’s birthday.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“Nina’s housemate's been livin' somewhere else for work anyway, so I'd be subletting off them,” Vanessa says.

Ruben doesn’t look happy as such, but he’s not freaking out or anything. He leans in, elbows on knees and eyes intense, every fucking inch the engaged college professor. “And it’s what you want to do?”

“I…think so? I mean, I dunno that this is my _career_ -career, so like, who knows what’ll happen there. But it’s something I might be good at, and…I like the idea of travel, you know?Takin' risks sometimes. I won’t know if I want the  _job_ till I'm doing it. But I want to see the stuff that might come with it. I don’t wanna miss that chance.”

“Okay,” says Ruben, and he nods to himself. “Okay.” And then he smiles at her, sad but full of pride. “You’ll knock ‘em dead in California.”

Holy shit, is he for real? A burst of hope like champagne bubbles tingles in her hands: maybe this can  _work_. If her boys understand why she’s doing this, she can make it work, she can have home and freedom and them and… _damn_ , she really is excited. She’s been trying not to get too hype about it till now, but she’s  _fucking_  excited. “You’re really okay with it? I mean, I’ve already made the call, I’m definitely doin' it, but…you’re okay with it if I go?”

“We’ll miss you like hell,” Ruben says. “But we’ll be here when you get back.”

She grabs him by the collar and kisses him hard, feels him smile at her enthusiasm, lets him go to turn to Usnavi.

“Usnavi, what’s your verdict? California girl in the makin' here?” she asks, smiling at him.

Usnavi is silent. Vanessa realises he’s been silent this whole conversation, staring at her in shock.

“…Usnavi?”

He looks from her to Ruben and back to her with his eyebrows slowly drawing together. And then, still without saying a single goddamn word, Usnavi puts his hat back on, picks up his phone off the coffee table, and he walks out of the room with the door slamming closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: ...sorry about all this]


	9. Chapter 9

**Usnavi**

Usnavi goes out the room calm and starts running for home the second he’s clear of Ruben’s apartment.

Vanessa’s leaving, Vanessa’s leaving, Vanessa’s leaving.

His chest burns even though it’s barely any distance to run from Ruben’s place to his own. When he closes his door behind him and leans against it heavily, catching his breath, he can see through to the living room where everything’s half boxed up.

Vanessa’s leaving. Not just going downtown leaving this time. Usnavi doesn’t have his home any more, and Usnavi doesn’t have his store any more, and if Usnavi and Ruben together aren’t enough to even keep Vanessa in the state then how is Usnavi on his own supposed to be enough to keep things going with either of them? And if Usnavi and Vanessa together can’t help Ruben now, how’s Usnavi supposed to look out for him when Vanessa isn’t here? And what if something happens to Vanessa and Usnavi’s not around to help her?

The chasm isn’t tucked away aching inside his heart now, its underneath his feet. He’s stepped out into nothing. He’s going to lose them, he knows it, he’s going to lose  _everything_ again.

“¡Abuela, por favor, no sé qué hacer! _”_  he says aloud to his empty apartment, frantic, but of course there’s no response.

***

**Vanessa**

“Usnavi!” she calls after him as he leaves, but the door slams without a reply. Ruben when she looks over at him just looks confused.

“You should maybe follow him?” he suggests, and she really doesn’t want to, which probably means he’s right.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, fine. You comin' with me?”

“I…kinda feel like this is a you and him thing,” he says, slowly.

Ruben’s probably right about that, too, which doesn’t make Vanessa feel less like she’s headed into battle without backup when she lets herself into Usnavi’s apartment.

“Usnavi? Honey, are you here?”

There’s two things it seems likely she’s gonna be met with: Usnavi freaking out, or Usnavi crying. When she goes into the living room, he’s stood like a statue in the center, facing away.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

He turns to her with narrowed eyes and then scowls down at one of the packed-up cardboard boxes scattering the living room, nudges at it viciously with his foot, still doesn’t say anything. Usnavi being silent is unnerving. Vanessa’s on totally unknown ground here. She doesn’t like how he keeps surprising her in the worst ways today.

Is he  _angry_?

“Are you mad at me? I thought you’d be okay with it.”

“You expected me to be okay that you’re leavin' us?” he says, finally, harsh and incredulous.

“I’m leavin' New York,” she corrects him.

“What’s the difference?” he mutters.

“Pretty big difference? We’ll still be us. It ain't like California's the moon, Usnavi. We have phones.”

She says it wry with a little bit of a smile, trying to cajole him out of his mood, but Usnavi just glares at her again.

“Yeah, I ain't stupid, Vanessa,” he says. “I do in fact know we have phones.”

“So that means you know it ain't like I won’t still talk to you.”

“Oh, well, ain’t that so  _fuckin’_  magnanimous of you,” he says, raising his hands sarcastically. “Woulda been nice if you’d maybe talked to me  _before_  you decided to fuck off halfway across the country but I guess I gotta make do with whatever bone you’re willing to throw me. You gonna pencil a day for me into your calendar, or should I just sit by the phone and hope?”

_“_ Don’t be a dick,” she says without thinking, and Usnavi goes tense all over.

_“I’m_ the one being a dick, Vanessa? No me puedo creer que hagas esto," he says. _“_ To me. To _us_.”

Vanessa instantly matches his attitude by instinct. “What do you mean, to us? You’re the only one with a problem here!  _Ruben_  was fine with it." It’s a low blow and it’s not really fair to make Ruben part of this argument, but if Usnavi’s being childish why the hell shouldn’t Vanessa?

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not as good as Ruben is,” he grinds out resentful through gritted teeth.

“Usnavi!”

“Sorry I can’t be so chill about you leaving, but  _I_ wasn’t expecting you to get up and ditch us as soon as something better came along. I guess he’s always been smarter than me. I was dumb enough to think you’d wanna stick around.”

Shit, definitely a bad idea to bring Ruben into this. But  all Usnavi’s anger is still directed squarely at her and she doesn’t know where the hell this is all coming from. Yeah, it’s a bombshell, but he’s also being a  _jerk_ , which has never, ever been the go-to for Usnavi no matter what mood he’s in. Vaguely hysterical or kinda manic, usually. Every so often, only when necessary and almost never directed at her, a clean sharp anger. Not bitter, not  _mean_.

“I’m not ditching you,” she says, frustrated. “It’s only four months.”

“You didn’t even ask us before you agreed to it!” he shouts. “You come in and say  _this is what I’m doin', so fuck you both_ , and you automatically think I’m just gonna be all _oh_ ,  _es grandioso, Vanessa, you do you?_   We're supposed to be a team, why the hell wouldn’t you discuss it with us before you decide to do something like this?!"

She knows it might’ve been easier for them, at least if she’d sat down with them first and hashed it out. But that’s how they deal with so much of lives, and Vanessa can’t do that every single time. Most of the time, yeah, because that’s what being in a relationship means, but not for  _everything_ , and she thought Usnavi understood that. She can’t filter everything through them or she’ll lose her fucking mind. It’s not Usnavi or Ruben’s choice to make, and there’s stuff she needs to do off her own back so she knows she can still be Vanessa by herself and not always Vanessa-Usnavi-Ruben. She still loves them no matter where she goes.

That’s her actual reasoning, but she’s stressed and wrongfooted and Usnavi is yelling at her and so what Vanessa actually ends up snapping is “because it’s _my_ future and it's got nothin' to do with you!”

She freezes with horror instantly, realizing how that sounds. Usnavi goes pale.

“¡Mierda! Usnavi, babe, you know I didn’t mean—“

He backs away from her outstretched hand, hugs his arms around himself and it makes him look like Ruben. “Fine,” he says. “Fuckin'  _fine_ , Vanessa. Awesome.  _Bueno_. You’re right, it’s your life. I’m just wonderin' why you even bothered to tell us you’re leavin' in the first place if that’s how you feel. Go to California and do whatever the hell you want, since you’re so good at that.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, and her eyes flood with tears. She wipes them away angrily. She always tries so hard for them, and he’d always recognized that before. Vanessa wants him to be happy for her, and to be proud of her, not…this. “That’s so unfair, Usnavi, you know it is.”

Usnavi turns away. He never ignores Vanessa when she’s crying.

“I can’t do this,” she says, to the rigid line of his back. “I know this is a shock, and I know you’re in a weird place with the store and all, and I’m sorry you feel like I’m…I don’t know, abandonin' you or whatever but I’m  _not_ , so I don’t know why you’re actin' this way. It’s not fair, and I’m not doin' it.”

She leaves his apartment, and doesn’t check behind her to see if he watches her go.

***

Ruben’s standing at the bookshelf where he keeps his living room plants and fussing with them nervously when Vanessa gets back to his apartment. He brings a defensive arm up to shield his face because she forgot to give a heads-up knock before she let herself in but recovers quickly.

“Fucking  _Usnavi_ ,” Vanessa says, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, Jesus,” says Ruben, sounding terrified. He flaps his hands at her helplessly before eventually settling on pulling her to sit down with him, rests his chin on top of her head while she hides her face against his shoulder. “Come on, Vanessa, please don’t cry, I’m sure it’s not that— did it go badly, then?”

She snorts through her crying. “I’ll say. He’s being a total asshole about it, Ruben.”

“Okay then,” says Ruben, cautiously. “Don’t wanna be stuck in the middle of you insulting each other, to be honest.”

“Sorry. You’re right,” she says, and wishes she hadn't used him in her argument earlier. “But he’s being so unreasonable. He told me to just leave and do whatever I want because I’m  _so good at that._ Like I don’t do shit for you guys all the time, like I’m not always tryna think of what works best for everyone. Even if I’m not always good at it I try to.”

“I know you do,” says Ruben. “He knows it too. He’s just upset. There’s a lot changing, you know?”

“I get that,” she says. “But this ain’t like Usnavi. He’s more, y’know, shrieking and flailing. I get being upset or shocked but he’s acting like I’ve betrayed him or somethin'.” She bites her lip, then looks up at Ruben. There’s damp tearstain on his sweater now but he’s probably too polite to mention it. “I know I’m not always as expressive as he is. Or that sometimes I get mad about stuff or - but…Ruben, I do love you both so much. That’s always true.”

“I know that.”

“I thought out of the two of you it would never be him who reacted like this. I was kinda expectin' it from you. No offence or nothin'.”

“None taken,” he says, mildly. “I am pretty bad at being loved sometimes. But to the greatest extent it’s  _possible_  for me to accept that any amount of people are in love with me for whatever reason, I do know that you both love me. And each other.”

“And you get it, why I’m taking the job?”

“I get wanting something,” he says. “Having something you need to chase, and having to make sacrifices for it.”

“I don’t see why I should be made to feel bad about that,” she says. “Or about wanting stuff outside of you two and wanting to decide that on my own. It’s not — I try really hard. I can’t always make stuff better and you both think I can just like, fuckin' punch the whole world until you’re safe again, and I  _try_  but it’s not fair that if I’m not there then that means I’m the bad guy. He nearly left once as well, you know.”

Ruben sighs. “I can’t tell you what he’s thinking, Vanessa, but I wish you’d told us first too, even if I get why you didn’t. It’s gonna change our lives a lot, not just yours. And didn’t you yell at him when he was the one who nearly left?”

“That’s true.” She brushes her hair down around her face, not wanting to admit the next part. “I mighta told him just now that my future was nothin' to do with him.”

“Ouch,” says Ruben, hissing sympathetically. He shifts underneath her. “Did you mean…you and him, you’re not—?”

“No,” she says. “God, no, Ruben, I’m not leavin' him. Or either of you. Except in the sense I’m physically leavin' the city, but like, Facetime, planes. It just came out wrong and he didn’t wanna listen when I tried to explain. I know it’ll be hard but he’s treatin' it like I’ve told him I don’t want him any more and I don’t know why he’d ever think that was a possibility."

“He’ll miss you,” says Ruben, simply. “I’m gonna miss you too. We love you.”

Her heart twists. At the core that's what this is, underneath all the anger. That’s why she was mad at Usnavi when he nearly went to DR, that’s why Usnavi’s mad at her now. It would be so much better if things were simpler. If they could just love each other, or be angry at each other, and not have to do both at once, and not have to be angry  _because_  they love each other.

“I know. He was still bein' a dick, though, surely you gotta agree with me on that?”

“Vanessa, I  _said_  I don’t want to take sides on this.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Then she adds quietly, “but he  _was_ ,” and Ruben gives an exasperated laugh and kisses her hair. “You and him should both want stuff outside of us too, you know? I need to know that you can cope without me. I’m not leavin' forever. But I need to know that. It’s so much pressure otherwise.”

“Vanessa, not to downplay what you do for us because I am aware that it’s a lot, but you do remember I managed twenty-eight years before you two?” says Ruben dryly. “Admittedly not always in the best condition, and I like it so much better with you around, but I can definitely survive for four months. Sometimes whole days go by without anything trying to ruin my life, you know.”

He’s right. She forgets, sometimes, that he was already putting himself back together before he found them. That he’s told them that for months he’d wake up screaming  _every_  night, that there was a time he couldn’t even take his clothes off to shower. They see him when he hurts now and it feels like nothing could possibly be worse than this, and she forgets that for him, this is  _better._ He came so far on his own before they ever met him. It’s sort of devastating that this is Ruben improved, but it’s still a relief in this moment.

Except this past week or so has definitely been a slip backwards. “We never talked about your thing,” she says with a jolt of realization.

“Oh, it’s not—“

“I swear to god, Marcado, if you say  _it’s not important_  I will headbutt you.” She nudges gently against his chin with her head as a warning. “Spill those beans.”

“I wasn’t  _going_  to say—no, you’re right, I was. And it is important.”

He takes a deep breath, then another, psyching himself up. Vanessa shifts back on the couch so that she can see him face-to-face properly, and he doesn’t meet her eye as he says very quickly, “I’vebeentalkingtoJason.”

Everything is catching her off guard today. All the air goes out of her.

What. The. Fuck.

***

**Ruben**

“What,” says Vanessa, in a deliberately measured voice. “The fuck, Ruben. What the  _fuck_? You’ve been talkin' to that evil son of a bitch? Why?!”

“Only through text. I need his data,” he explains. “For Blackout, I need him to sign the consent forms. I’ve got five years worth of in-depth records. Multiple brain scans and almost daily levels of hormones and — there’s so much there. I did so much work. It was my whole life, outside of my actual job. But I need his signature to use any of it, and even if there were a way to fake it I wouldn't. I don’t care who he is, I’m doing this by the book. Cutting corners puts the whole thing at risk, I was lucky not to get charged for the shit I did at IMH. I need him to agree to provide verbal testimonial, too.”

“Verbal testimonial? Like an interview? If you’re tellin' me you’re gonna sit in a room with  _that man_ and —“

“Of course I’m not,” he says impatiently. He can hardly handle messages on a screen from Jason, as if he’d ever want to see his fucking face again. “Someone else will do that part. I’m not a total idiot.”

“You’re some kind of an idiot,” she disagrees. “If you’re in touch with the guy.”

It’s a fair point.

“It doesn’t make a difference," he says. “He won’t sign the form. Not until I give him what he wants."

“And what does he want?”

“Just to talk, apparently,” says Ruben, and he feels his lip curl disdainfully. That’s what Ian said too, on the plane. “ _We’re just gonna talk?” “Yeah_.”  “In person, not through message. God knows why, I haven’t asked, I don’t care. I just want him to give me what he owes me.”

Vanessa sits back heavily against the couch cushions, runs a hand through her hair. “I guess I should be grateful you’re not lettin' him persuade you,” she says grudgingly. “I don’t want him in the same  _state_  as you, never mind the same room.”

Ruben cringes. Vanessa immediately zeroes in on it.

“Ruben.”

“Vanessa.”

“ _What_  was that reaction you just had?”

“…He’s in New York,” Ruben says, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the reality. Vanessa looks horrified. “Oh, god, Vanessa, he’s in New York, he found out I’m here and I don’t know how he did it or how long he’s known or why he waited till now, and he says Ian’s not around any more but I don’t wanna see Jason either, I don’t, I just want my research. I earned it. I don’t want him in our city, he’s not  _allowed_  it—“

“Hey. Ruben, hey! Keep calm. We can handle this. Can I touch your hands?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he says, and nods, and she clasps his hands tightly.

“We can handle this,” she repeats, and for all she says she can’t punch the world till he’s safe again, it sure as hell feels like she might be able to when she uses that tone. It’s okay. He’s not safe when Jason’s so near, but saying it out loud doesn’t make him any less safe than five minutes ago. It’s okay, it’s okay. He needs to stay calm so they can fix things.

“Is that why you had that dream the other night?” she asks. “Because he’s in the city?”

Ruben nods again. “He said he wasn’t gonna come but he had to because I wouldn’t answer him properly, says he’s not gonna track me down or force me to meet him but he’s also not gonna sign the form until I do. And he won’t _stop_ fucking asking now that he’s started, so it’s good to know some things in life are consistent, I guess.”

“He’s not gonna track you down?!” she says, enraged. “The hell he isn’t, he already has! He followed you here! That fuckin' creep. Why would he even think that would even work if you won’t answer the phone to him?”

“Because it's the last thing I want to happen and he’s always been a pain in the ass?” Ruben guesses. Vanessa shakes their joined hands against where they’re resting on his legs like she’s trying to jostle sense into him.

“Ruben,” she says. “This is more than that. He followed you and he’s contacted you persistently and he’s holdin' your research hostage to make you do what he wants. You know this is stalking, right? Like he is legitimately stalking you right now?”

Ruben hadn’t thought of it that way. “But…I contacted him first.”

“Yeah, that was a stupid mistake and trust me I’m so mad at you for not telling us about it as soon as it happened,” she says, flicking him softly on the nose and then kissing him in the same spot afterwards. “But also, he spent a long time fucking with your head. You ain’t to blame if that comes back sometimes and makes you make stupid mistakes. And it definitely does not give him the right to  _stalk_ you, because, and I think I said this already,  _what the fuck, Ruben_. I wish you’d told us straight away.”

“Nobody really cared what he did to me last time,” he says, with a shrug. “And that’s when he was doing shit like trying to strangle me at work. Comparatively, this is basically nothing.”

“Well, we care now,” says Vanessa, firmly. “And it’s  _not_  nothin', and you know it, else you wouldn’t be having nightmares like that or have spent the past week so upset. We’re sortin' this shit out.”

“We are?” he asks, hopeful, and this is why he wanted to tell them, why he should’ve told them immediately. They’ve always helped him, no matter what. A fear he didn’t know he’d been feeling - that Vanessa would tell him he brought this on himself, or that he’s making a big deal out of nothing - eases out of his system. “We are. Yes. Good. Um, how exactly are we doing that?”

“I didn’t come up with a master plan in the five fuckin' seconds since you told me, Ruben,” she huffs. “But first step should be tellin' Usnavi so we can all figure it out together. Fucking Usnavi,” she adds, for good measure, but she doesn’t sound as genuinely pissed as when she said it earlier.

“I can talk to him alone if you two are—“

“No,” she says. “No, we can put that aside till this is dealt with. He'll want to help you too, and this is stressful enough without us makin' you play go-between and run messages like we’re your parents getting a divorce.”

“Don’t love that analogy,” says Ruben. “But okay. I’ll call him, tell him to come back over.”

He picks up his phone, presses the home button to unlock it, and everything inside him freezes up like he’s been doused in liquid nitrogen. Vanessa notices immediately.

“Oh, god, what happened now?” she asks.

“Change of plan,” says Ruben. He stands up and takes his coat off the back of the sofa, checking the pocket for his keys and trying to slide his feet into his sneakers at the same time he’s putting it on. “We’re going to Usnavi’s place right now.”

“We are? Ruben, what—“

“This is Usnavi’s phone,” he says, giving up and bending down to untie his sneakers and put them on properly.

“So?”

“So that means Usnavi has probably picked up my phone by accident.”

Vanessa looks at him, uncomprehending.

“My phone,” Ruben says, struggling to tying his laces with how unsteady his fingers are, “which Jason is using to contact me several times a day, specifically to tell me he’s followed me to New York and wants to meet, which I haven’t got round to telling Usnavi about yet.”

“Oh,  _shit_ ,” says Vanessa, and grabs her jacket.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: vague on the actual details of jasons condition because canon is a nonsense and fuck this guy anyway. also, hard to make clear in the chapter itself, but dont take the portrayal of jason as an accurate portrayal of DID. he's an asshole entirely separate to whatever diagnosable condition he may or may not have. also i aint know shit about court-mandated therapy or that kind of thing.
> 
> unreliable narrator alert. i mean, they're all unreliable narrators, but i feel like definitely remember it for jason POV]

** Jason **

Jason never goes back to Independence Memorial after he’s released from the secure psychiatric unit where he underwent his mandatory therapy. He can’t imagine there’d be a warm welcome for him there.

He knows his ex-colleagues all think he did it. That it was him and some mental health problem he had that followed Ruben to Jamaica, that did all the things Ian did to him then left him there for dead. They don’t understand it, that Jason never got on that plane. Jason never stepped foot on Jamaican soil as himself, but that doesn’t matter when it’s his fingerprints on the wheel of an half-burnt out rental car, and on the handle of the knife found next to a blood-spattered table in some warehouse, when it’s his credit card buying drinks on the plane that Ruben tried to get away on.

That’s how the police figured it out, in the end, the credit card. How they found Ruben still alive, how they found out everything about the whole situation. Ruben was found alive, and Jason was locked away in a secure treatment facility, and Ruben refused to ever see him but he passed along the message that the electrode platform should be titanium. Jason was right to trust that genius brain of Ruben’s. The switch held up, the drug worked. There’s been no trace of Ian in his system for a long time.

People understand that it was a situation of split personalities, that’s probably what saved him from a lifetime in jail, but what they don’t understand is that this wasn’t just your standard DID. It took the implant, not the therapy, to get rid of Ian, it was a very specific and unique neurological and chemical phenomenon and that’s why he had to get Ruben to help him instead of just visiting the family doctor and hoping for the best. Jason had nowhere else to turn, he’s not a textbook case here, and he needed Ruben’s brain to crack the problem. Ruben always had the option of not doing it.

Not that he’s _blaming_ Ruben for what happened in Jamaica, of course he isn’t. Jason’s got some culpability there too, for getting him involved in the first place, he’s not denying it. It was awful, and he regrets that it happened.

It’s just that Jason did what he did out of desperation. He had no other options. Ian was the one who acted out of choice. God knows that saying no to Ian was never going to have much of an impact, but Ruben could have always said no to Jason if that’s what he really wanted.

***

Home is an apartment on the outskirts of the city now. Jason never used to spend time at home. Work at IMH all day, and at night he was either knocked out on some variation of Blackout or Ian was at the wheel. Home was just a place to eat and shower and a place to keep his belongings.

That was then. This is now, and now, Jason spends the majority of his life inside his new apartment. It’s better than the facility, it’s good to have his freedom. It’s not so good that he has nothing else but his freedom. Nobody who he used to know will speak to him. Olivia won't let him see his son. Nowhere will hire him. He gets recognised sometimes, only very occasionally, but it’s always an unpleasant situation when he does.

He gets interviews with various hospitals, never for as high a position as before so he knows he is capable and yet the interviews still always get cancelled before they ever materialise. Every single time. It’s his name that was dragged through the mud, not Ian’s.

He thought he’d get his nights back when Ian was finally gone, but he lies awake wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. One night in Jamaica and his whole life has fallen apart in an entirely new way than how it was falling apart before. Maybe Ruben feels the same way. There’s some nights Jason wakes up with the imagined feeling of a knife handle in his palm, and he doesn’t know if it’s a memory or just a guilty conscience.

It must be a guilty conscience: Jason was never Ian, Jason never remembered what Ian did. It doesn’t stop him thinking about it. He’s constantly paying penance on crimes he never even committed. 

So much for starting over now he’s not sharing his brain any more. What’s the point of freedom when he’s still so tied to the past? Jason’s not asking for much. He just wants some fucking closure.

***

Jason finds himself wondering. He thinks in circles: what if this hadn’t happened, what if that hadn’t happened. What if Ruben had stayed away from face-to-face interactions with Ian like Jason told him to? They would have had so much more time to fix things. What if Ruben hadn’t run away, had stayed at Jason’s apartment to work on the switch like they agreed? He would’ve had the titanium revelation there, with Ian staying safely locked upstairs, and Jamaica would have been avoided entirely. 

He also thinks very often that the problem with not being a textbook case is that it’s very, very hard to find any kind of solidarity, especially when everyone you used to know thinks that you kidnapped and tortured your coworker. There’s not exactly an online support community for this.

Ruben’s the one person who always knew the difference between the two of them. Who saw the different biochemical profiles and who reassured him that the terrible, violent shit Ian had done wasn’t Jason’s fault. Ruben’s also the only other person in the world who would understand what it’s like to have Ian ruin his life.

Is Ruben trapped inside his house too, stuck in stasis with nowhere to go? Did he go back to work at IMH? Does he still live in Philadelphia? Has he managed to make any kind of forward progress away from what happened? Jason’s got nothing, but what’s Ruben’s life looking like?

Jason toys with his phone, debates with himself, dials Ruben’s number. The tone cuts off immediately. Obviously. Stupid. Ruben probably lost his phone in Jamaica.

He scrolls through his contacts list. Nobody here who’d speak to him. Nobody who’d know Ruben personally to have his new number.

Wait, no. Of course. Of _course_. He hits the call button. It rings three times before Josh answers.

“…Dr Cole?”

“Josh! Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“I-I, um. T-technically I don’t work for you any more, and I’m not sure—“

“I need Ruben’s new contact details.”

“What?” says Josh, and he sounds panicked. “What do you- I - I’m not going to tell _you_ anything about—“

“I know how this sounds,” Jason interrupts. “I swear, I’m not gonna do anything to him. I just…I want to talk to him. See how he’s doing. Apologise. You have to trust me. You know it wasn’t me who did it, right?”  
  
“Right,” says Josh, skeptical. “Alternate personality, wasn’t it?”

“Please, Josh.”

“I don’t know where Ruben is,” says Josh. “Nobody has been in touch with him for weeks, as far as I know. I heard he left Philadelphia but I don’t know where he went, I don’t have his details, and I’m not about to track him down if he doesn’t want to be found.”

“I’m not tracking him down,” says Jason. “I’m just asking around.”

Josh hangs up.

Fuck. So much for loyalty. Jason liked him much better when he was paying him.

He tries to call Josh again a few days later and the call won’t go through. Must have blocked his number.

Ruben’s not anywhere to be found on the internet, no visible social media accounts, the only trace of his existence the pages of news articles about his disappearance and return. And Jason’s not actively looking for him. He’s not going to hunt him down or anything, has no reason to try and insert himself into Ruben’s life if he’s not welcome there. He just checks, every now and then, to see if anything new comes up.

(“You mention Dr Marcado very frequently during these sessions,” the court-appointed therapist several months into his hospital admission says, as though that’s something worthy of dissection. Of course he does. What else would he talk about?

He's always hated the way therapists speak to him. Slow, patronising, as though he doesn't know more about the brain than they ever will. As though they have the first idea what his condition was about.

“Well,” he says. “That’s because it’s the Ruben stuff that’s still affecting everything now. I mean, that’s why we’re sat here, after all.”

“Do you feel Dr Marcado is perhaps responsible for your current situation?”

“Not _responsible_ as such,” says Jason. “He didn’t cut himself up and pin the blame on me, I know that. All I’m saying is, it’s undeniable that it’s because of what happened to Ruben I’m in the position I’m in now.”

“I’m concerned that your fixation on this specific incident as the main cause of your current situation suggests you would still present a further danger to Dr Marcado if we were to sign your release forms,” his therapist says.

“A _further_ danger?” asks Jason, incredulous. “I was never a danger to him in the first place. That was Ian. I’m not the one who hurt him. And it’s not a _fixation_ , I’m just…invested.”

“Jason,” she says, gently. “Ian was a part of you. And Ruben is no longer part of your life. Dwelling on him in this way has seriously troubling implications for your own mental state. Until you accept these things, you aren’t going to be able to recover.”

“It would be weird if I wasn’t invested at this point, surely. It doesn’t mean I’m a danger to him. If anything, I’m on his wavelength. Ian ruined both our lives that night, you know. Wouldn’t _you_ be hung up on it too?”

“We aren’t here to discuss me. I’m afraid that’s our time for today, Jason, but next session we’re going to discuss some methods to help you learn to recognise and combat these obsessive thought patterns.”

And they do discuss methods, all of which are predictably irrelevant. She talks as though this were something with a precedent: fixation, obsession, perseveration. Behavioural therapies and psychotherapy and medication. As though he didn’t do all this before, when he was trying to get rid of Ian long before he even met Ruben. He already knows the techniques, but he’s always known they don’t apply to him. She has no idea what really happened. It was neurological, not psychological. He’s the expert here. Jason isn’t textbook. 

He doesn’t need the therapy, so it doesn’t make a difference, but it’s clear that if he ever wants to get out of this godforsaken facility then he’s not going to do it by talking about Ruben, so eventually he just stops mentioning his thoughts on the matter out loud. Eventually he tells them that he understands Ian was just another facet of himself, that he’s coming to terms with it, that he believes them. 

It takes months, but eventually they say he’s safe to be out in society again, as though he weren’t to begin with. The only thing wrong with him was Ian, of course, and Ian was gone after the surgery, right at the very start of Jason being checked in here.

But that’s the sort of thing that would get him immediately re-admitted if he told them, so he just smiles and thanks them for their help and wonders if Ruben had to spend this much time on the therapist’s couch.)

He’s not fixating, because if he were fixating, he would have been constantly monitoring Ruben’s mom’s house to see if there were any sign of him, but Jason’s only been past there maybe eight or nine times since he was released, his face always half-obscured under a hat because he’s not technically allowed this close to them. He’s never seen Ruben there, and he never lingered too long.

If he were fixating he would’ve kept calling around after Josh blocked his number, trying to find Ruben through one of the other lab people, but he can take a hint. Besides, he’s not really sure who Ruben used to hang around with outside work to ask. Josh just said that nobody ever speaks to him these days, though for all Jason knows Josh is lying.

He only googles Ruben’s name a handful of times every week, and he never intends to do anything about it. He just wants to know.  If he were fixating then the day that his search reveals that the Borough of Manhattan Community Collegehad updated their website and a Dr Ruben Marcado was now listed on the staff section he would have gone to New York immediately, but he doesn’t. He just nods and files it away to remember and thinks about it. The information is taken down two days later.

Ruben was brilliant, and now look where he is. Some little community college teaching job. He could’ve been something amazing.

Jason thinks about that a lot, for months and months and months. But he’s not fixating, because if he were he’d have gone toBMCC. He’s not going to force himself into Ruben’s life. It’s not doing anyone any harm for him to just stay in the loop.

And then one day his phone buzzes, and he’s hoping that it’s an interview, but instead it’s a message from an unknown number.

**[Unknown]:  
** \- Dr Cole,

I am contacting you regarding an extended trial in which you participated some years ago, for the drug known as Blackout. We require your signature on some documentation agreeing to allow us to use the data gathered in this trial and to contact you for further interview. Please respond with the address or email account to which these forms can be sent.

Your co-operation is appreciated,

Dr Ruben Marcado, PhD.

***

Ruben’s making Blackout again and Jason feels like maybe, for the first time since Ian went to Jamaica, maybe he has a chance to get his life back.

It’s kind of a long shot, but the only one he’s got: since it’s what happened to Ruben that’s led to Jason’s life being how it is right now, surely it makes sense that Ruben is the only one who can reverse it. Full circle.

They’re in the same situation, really. Victims of circumstance, that circumstance being Ian fucking Price. Jason and Ruben were both at the top of their field and now Jason’s living off his savings and Ruben’s teaching at community college. They’re both looking for a way back in, a way to get their lives back. Ruben might have found one, but he needs Jason’s help. And in return, he can help Jason.

Jason’s never doubted that Ruben’s a genuine genius, and Blackout was something pretty amazing even if it didn’t work on Jason as long as it could’ve done. Ruben’s not going to be in Jason’s exact field, but he’s going to be working with hospitals, with people in important positions on all sorts of boards. And his name is going to mean something if this drug pans out.

So it’s a pretty straightforward solution: Ruben’s going to have the kind of connections Jason needs to get a job, and Ruben, as the thing that is currently preventing Jason from getting a job in the first place, can tell people what he’s known all along: that it was Ian who hurt him. That Jason didn’t do anything. That the switch and the kill drug were invented by Ruben himself, so if that’s not a mark of how effective a treatment they are then god only knows what is. That Jason is fucking good at what he does - and he _knows_ Ruben understands how important work is, for people like them.

Jason helps Ruben by letting him share their research with the world. Ruben helps Jason by giving his public forgiveness and a foot in the door with employers. Ruben gets to be a chemist again, Jason gets to be a neurosurgeon again, they both get to go back to the one thing that matters most in either of their lives. Ruben gets his million dollars, Jason maybe gets to stop lying awake at night full of guilt about what Ian did to Ruben.A mutually beneficial agreement.

Or it would be, if Ruben would only take his fucking calls.

***

Jason calls, and Ruben doesn’t answer. This happens several times. Ruben won’t even send him a proper message, just keeps copy-and-pasting the same bullshit “send the completed document to this email” message like Jason hasn’t already made the terms of his agreement extremely clear.

It’s so infuriating. If he were absolutely certain Ruben didn’t want to get in touch with him, of course he’d leave him alone. Of course he would. But Ruben’s always just needed a bit of a push to make a decision properly, that’s just how he is. A little extra pressure in the right direction to be sure that things work out. If he hadn’t wanted to help Jason out with Ian he wouldn’t have always changed his mind when Jason asked him to come back, and if he didn’t want Jason to contact him now he’d stop replying completely, or call the police. Yes, not signing the form is a dick move. He knows it is. But is he meant to give up the only leverage he’s got? He’s desperate. Ruben’s always helped Jason before. If they could just have a conversation, Jason’s sure he could persuade him again.

He gets the bus to New York, stays in a hotel there that doesn’t feel very much different to staying in his apartment all the time. He considers waiting outside the college, walks past the campus several times, but decides against getting too close. He’s not going to force Ruben to meet up with him, he’s not going to _make_ Ruben do anything. If Ruben says no then Jason will go back home, but he will say yes eventually, Jason’s pretty certain, so it makes sense to already be in New York when that happens before Ruben changes his mind again.

Jason calls, and Ruben doesn’t answer.

**Jason:  
** \- Just answer your fucking phone, Ruben.

He regrets swearing immediately. Getting angry is hardly going to help, but Ruben’s being so _stubborn_. Why won’t he see Jason’s side of things? He’s just asking for a conversation. One conversation.

And look, he does understand Ruben not wanting to see him, that Ruben’s probably got a lot of trauma after Ian. He understands Ruben not wanting to revisit that part of his life. But if either of them are going to move on they need this, to make a fresh start and actually make something of themselves. Ruben’s only hurting himself more by acting this way.

**Ruben:  
** \- just sign the fucking form, jason

It’s the first time Ruben has sounded like himself instead of a generated letter since they started speaking. That’s a good sign. It means Jason can get through to him.

**Jason:  
** \- I’m in New York.  
\- I wasn’t going to come but I know that’s where you are.  
\- I’m not going to track you down or anything.  
\- Just, I’m in New York and I'd like to meet up with you.

And then he doesn’t get _anything_. For a whole fucking day.

Jason calls, and Ruben doesn’t answer. The next day passes too, Jason sends message after message and gets no response. Jason calls, and Ruben doesn’t answer. Jason calls, and—

“…J-Jason?”

“Ruben. Finally.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: if i fucked up places/subway stops its because i cant read maps or timetables or understand anything spatially whatsoever and have never been to NYC thx for your patience]

**Usnavi**

Vanessa’s barely left the apartment before Usnavi’s fumbling in the back of a drawer and pulling out his hidden stash of cigarettes. He chainsmokes three on the fire escape with everything inside him a vibrating mess. He didn’t mean to yell at her.

She told him her future was nothing to do with him.

He wants her to stay.

He’s so angry at her for leaving him. He’s so angry at her for assuming he’d be okay with it.

He didn’t even tell her he was proud of her for getting the job. He’s so proud of her. She worked hard for that.

She said her future was nothing to do with him.

What’s happening, what the fuck is happening to him? Why has everything been so fucked up recently? He could cry, except all he has is a feeling like someone’s kicked him in the stomach and no tears. His phone won’t stop buzzing and it sounds louder than the elevated train. Is it Vanessa saying she wants to make up? Is it Vanessa telling him to go fuck himself? Is it Ruben, telling him that he’s taking Vanessa’s side in this?

_Just check the damn thing and stop worrying._

Checking the damn thing doesn’t stop him worrying. It just sort of stops him. He can see round the edges of the lockscreen that it’s not his own background, Ruben and Vanessa dancing in the kitchen in their pajamas, instead a blue sky and a corner of a Pride flag that tells him he’s picked up Ruben’s phone, but the rest of it is obscured by a series of texts.

From  _Jason_.

Alright, don’t panic, it’s a common name. It could be anyone. It could be anyone saying “Ruben, just listen to what I have to say”. And “This is getting ridiculous, can you just answer me?”. And—

**Incoming Call: Jason Cole.**

That’s…a slightly less common name. Or, hell of a coincidence for Ruben to find two, at least.

What the actual fuck is Jason Cole doing calling Ruben? What the fuck is Ruben doing with Jason in his contacts list at all? God.  _God_ , this is worse than someone leaving for California, this is - it’s the guy who nearly killed his boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, and he's calling him on the phone like that's an okay thing to happen.

Without even thinking about what he’s doing, Usnavi swipes to accept the call.

“J-Jason?” he asks, timidly, some wild part of him hoping the other caller will say  _no, it’s Ruben’s mom, that’s just a hilarious in-joke we have, can I speak to him?_

“Ruben,  _finally_.”

Oh, fuck.

_Hang up the fucking phone, Usnavi!_ he yells at himself, but his head’s been so loud all day that he’s numb to his own internal noise. Instead - and shit, he doesn’t know what makes him do it - instead he slows his speech and tempers his accent as best he can to the way Ruben sounds when he’s making calls to bigshot science people, the way he sounded when he first moved here (Ruben in everyday life has started to pick up local sound, letting his R’s hit more Spanish and his vowels shifting more New York) and he says “what do you want, Jason?”

“A conversation. You and me, face to face. In public, and no Ian, I swear. I'm at a coffee place on 96th street right now."

He's in the city. Oh,  _God_.

"I just need you to hear me out,” says Jason.

It’s weird to have a voice to go with the face, that flat mugshot stare that Jason (Ian?) had in the news articles Ruben showed them once. Or rather directed them towards, sitting safe on the other side of the laptop so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse.

“I didn’t really ever want to show you this stuff,” he said, “but I think it’s probably best for you to know what he looks like. Just in case.”

Usnavi and Vanessa had looked at the picture in front of them and Vanessa had said “dude, if you expect me to recognize him in the street, you shoulda really gone for someone less bland. He looks like every white guy at once. I thought you said he was hot?” Ruben laughed. Usnavi had idly scrolled the page to see if there were any more pictures, morbidly fascinated by the fact that the guy in Ruben’s nightmares was a human who they could actually  _see_.

Further down, another photo: two teenage girls (Usnavi knows them from pictures in Ruben’s apartment as his sisters) with matching outraged expressions standing with hands joined, their other arms spread out to the side like they’re forming a barrier: behind their attempt to block him from the horde of cameras, Ruben.

“Dios mío,” Usnavi had said, appalled, and Vanessa had recoiled away from the screen. It…wasn’t their Ruben. Some wasting, haunted figure like he’d just walked out of a grave, hunched inward and starved and scared. Usnavi barely recognized him.

Ruben winced and said “me, right? Yeah, that's why I didn’t show you before” and they left it at that, but it took Usnavi a couple days to stop subconsciously trying to find where the pieces of that other, otherworldly Ruben fit together to make the version stood in front of him.

Jason looked unhappy in his picture, but nothing spectral about it, just a guy who’d been arrested and majorly wasn’t feeling it. Nothing immediately obviously bad about him, either, which is something Usnavi finds unspeakably unnerving. You wouldn’t know he’d tortured a guy to look at him. His face was just…normal. And now his voice sounds normal too, if a little stressed. Usnavi wonders if that’s specific to this conversation or if that's just how he always sounds anyway.

Usnavi’s been quiet for too long. Jason says “Ruben,  _please_.”

Usnavi imagines Ruben in some shiny fancy lab, telling Jason that he’s through with him and then relenting under that  _please_ , time and again.

He hates him, he hates him so fucking much.

“Fine. Meet me at the entrance of the station on 96th at—” Usnavi checks his watch. “Five twenty.”

“I’ll be there,” says Jason, sounding relieved. “Thankyou. You won’t regret this, Ruben.”  
  
Usnavi hangs up. He’s pretty sure he already does, but he’s committed to it now.

***

**Vanessa**

“Hey Benny, is Usnavi at your place? No? No, it’s cool, I just needed to ask him somethin' and he left his phone at Ruben’s so—yeah, I know. Well, if you hear from him, tell him to hit me up, okay? You too. Bye.”

Vanessa hangs up in frustration. “That’s Benny and the Rosarios out, and Sonny’s not seen him in the bodega. Don’t seem likely he’d go all the way to Dani’s and I don’t think he’d go visitin' the neighbors when he’s in that kind of mood. Maybe we should check the cemetery, see if he’s gone to see Abuela or his parents.”

They’re in the middle of Usnavi’s living room, and Usnavi isn’t home. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It feels like a huge deal.

“He’s done something stupid,” Ruben says. “I can tell. Everything in me right now is saying that he’s done something astronomically fucking stupid and it’s going to be a disaster and—“

“Ruben! We don’t know anythin' yet. For all we know he just went to cool off at the park without even realizin' he took your phone.”

But Ruben’s turned away, finger pressed to one ear and Usnavi’s phone to the other, calling his own number again. “Come  _on_ , Usnavi,” he mutters, then “mother _fucker_!” when it goes to voicemail again.

Vanessa’s had a lot longer to learn Usnavi: she’s actually pretty sure Ruben’s instincts are on the mark, but feeding his stress won’t help anyone.

“I”m gonna look again, see if he left a note about where he was going,” she says, though it seems unlikely, since he’s probably not expecting them to come bursting in all panicked like this. But they only looked around the place quickly when they first came in so maybe they missed something. “You check his room.”

“Okay,” says Ruben, pressing redial and putting Usnavi’s phone back to his ear as he goes.

In the kitchen there’s no sign of Usnavi but she does spot a half-empty packet of cigarettes on the side. She picks them up, frowning in confusion, and in the stillness her ears catch the faintest buzzing. Following to the source and just before it cuts out there’s the light from Ruben’s phone, slightly out of sight atop a box packed full of kitchenware like it's been tossed there.

She presses the home button. On the notifications there’s fourteen missed calls from Ruben off Usnavi’s number and then -  _fuck_.

“Ruben?!” she calls, trying to sound calm but her voice rises at the second syllable. He doesn’t answer. “Ruben!”

“Yeah?” he says, sounding distracted,

“Your phone’s here and Jason’s sent a message!” The bedroom door creaks as Ruben pushes through it. “It says,  _I’m here, where are you?_ You don’t think— that can’t mean what I think it means, can it?”

She turns to Ruben, who is in the doorway with a pale, grim face. “If you’re guessing the same as me, I’m pretty sure we’re right on target,” he says, raising his hand.

He’s holding Usnavi’s hat.

***

**Usnavi**

On the whole, Usnavi agrees with the general ethos that in life you regret all the shots you didn’t take, but right now he is definitely regretting the one he  _did_  take, on route to 96th and pulling anxiously at the cuffs of a sweater that Ruben left round his place last week, tugging them out from under his jacket to cover his hands. It’s unclear whether that’s him trying to get in character or if it’s from his own nerves or if it’s something that the sweater itself compels people to do when they put it on via some kinda demonic possession.

Ruben’s clothes are usually comforting. They smell like coconuts and laundry detergent and something that Usnavi thinks might be the gentle growing scent of all the plants from Ruben’s apartment, herby and green, and they’re always soft and slightly oversized, and very often they contain Ruben. All good things, but right now all Usnavi wants is his own hat. He doesn’t like not wearing it, especially in high-stakes situations. It’s like going out without his skull attached.

He scratches at his hair - his head is cold - and hopes Jason doesn't question the notion that Ruben would ever get a mohawk and oh sweet fucking Jesus wait a minute, this is the worst plan ever, isn’t it? If it can even be called a plan, which it  _can’t_ , because it’s something that just happened in the space of about thirty seconds while Usnavi didn’t think at all.

They’ve been told they look alike so many times, was his entire basis for it. He doesn’t even believe it himself. Usnavi’s got a good ear, he can mimic speech patterns pretty well, so doing Ruben's voice on a call isn’t a problem, but he’s never seen the resemblance physically.

Vanessa had explained it (slightly drunkenly, else he doesn’t think he’d ever have got it out of her) one evening, after he expressed his confusion for the millionth time. “It’s - okay, don’t laugh at how corny this is - it’s the eyes. The height doesn’t help, and you’ve both got some sick brow game, but really that’s what does it. If anyone had told me before I met Ruben that I’d ever meet someone with eyes like yours I wouldn’t have believed them. They’re…distinctive. Once you get past that it’s easier to see the other differences.” Then she’d paused, tilting her empty wine glass so the light shone through. “Although give me like two more drinks and all bets are off on whether I can tell who either of you are.“

So there might be enough there to confuse people from a distance, or to occasionally put Ruben at the bodega counter in Usnavi’s hat just for fun to see which customers notice. But Jason worked with Ruben for years, very closely. And besides, Usnavi doesn’t know shit about their time together other than the bad stuff, and he has no capacity for acting.

This is unquestionably, unequivocally dumb as fuck. What was he  _thinking?!_

He rides the train till 96th paralysed by the situation he's trapped himself in - because no matter what, Jason’s expecting Ruben. And if he doesn’t show, Jason’s gonna be contacting him wondering why. Usnavi contemplates throwing Ruben’s phone into a sewer to hide the evidence but when his hand automatically goes to his pocket - yeah, no phone. Of course. He  _always_  forgets to bring the stuff he most needs to throw into sewers. Not that he could've done it anyway, dick move, but it definitely would've been easier.

Exiting onto the platform Usnavi pauses, buffeted by the crowd while he tries to figure how to mitigate one of the stupidest fucking ideas he’s ever had in a lifetime full of impulse decisions, and he’s just decided to get the train back home without seeing Jason and come up with what to tell Ruben later when he hears faintly, “Ruben? Ruben!”

_Please God let that be a different Ruben,_  he prays, hopelessly, because already appearing right in front of him with his hands tucked into the pockets of a light blue jacket is a harried-looking guy that he knows to be Jason fucking Cole.

Usnavi feels sick.

“ _There_  you are, I was waiting upstairs but—oh, you’re not Ruben. I’m sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine.”

A friend of his.  _Right_.

A rushing in Usnavi’s blood. It doesn't seem like it could be real. This is him, the person that hurt Ruben. That voice is the one that told him to strip and lay down on a table, Ruben would’ve stared at those eyes while those hands were —

“Woah, you don’t look good ” Jason’s saying. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor, I can help.”

He reaches out to grab Usnavi, who is suddenly unsteady on his feet, and Usnavi knocks his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he snaps. “I don’t want your help,  _Doctor Cole_.”

Fuck! He didn’t mean for that to slip out and now that’s any hope of leaving this situation unobtrusively gone, but he couldn’t help it. Those  _hands_. Usnavi makes to bolt and Jason grabs him round the wrist, so tight it hurts.

“How do you know my name?” he demands, pulling Usnavi back to face him.

“Get off me!” Usnavi says, tugging uselessly trying to free himself. None of the passersby notice them.

“You  _do_  know Ruben, don’t you? Did he send you here? Did he tell you about me?” His hand tightens more, and Usnavi doesn’t even think Jason knows he’s doing it, but he can imagine this grip around Ruben’s throat so clearly and it’s so far beyond terrifying and he needs to get out of here right  _now_. “Where is he?”

“¡Suéltame!” Usnavi twists his hand up and around, pulls down to break the hold, and just fucking runs.

Jason shouts “come back, I need to—“ but Usnavi is gone, ducking through the subway platform crowds and headed for the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Jason trying to shove his way through to follow, but Usnavi was born to New York currents, he knows better how to slide effortlessly into the ebb and flow of his city. He keeps running when he hits street level.

When he’s certain he’s not in Jason’s eyeline he ducks into a McDonalds, and hides in the bathroom stall for long enough that a staff member knocks and tells him that if he’s shooting up in there they’re gonna have to call the cops.

His pulse won’t stop racing. There’s a feeling like a fever burning all across his body.

Walking to the station at 103rd, he catches a flash of blue jacket and pale skin and light brown hair and his heart stops. Maybe it’s not Jason, but can Usnavi risk getting followed back, leading him straight to Ruben?

Usnavi walks to 110th, takes the train in the opposite direction to where he needs to be going, switches lines, goes further out of his way, walks between stations. Wonders if this paranoia is a fragment of what it was like for Ruben when he was living back in Philadelphia.

Jason was there. Jason was at 96th - shit, was that too close to home? Could he tell where Usnavi had come from by the timing or where he was stood on the platform? Usnavi gets off at the next stop, doubles back on himself, checks over his shoulder.

Fuck.  _Fuck_. He met Jason. Jason knows he knows Ruben. How can one person fuck up so incredibly hard in such a short amount of time?He’d gone into this with the vague intention of doing something to make sure Jason would leave forever, make sure Ruben was safe. Jason was right there in front of him, and he grabbed his wrist, and Usnavi didn’t do a fucking thing except make everything so much worse.

Once he’s trainhopped his way around to 135th, he walks the rest of the way home, sticking close to shadows, and the whole time he feels like someone poured gasoline into his lungs and lit a match.

There’s no way Ruben isn’t going to find out about this.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**5:32pm**

It’s the obvious conclusion and neither of them want to believe it, but Jason texting to say he’s “here”, wherever  _here_  may be, and when they go into Ruben’s call history among the endless list of red missed calls there’s one that got picked up. It’s less than five minutes long, and it happened just before five PM, when the two of them would have still been talking at Ruben’s apartment.

“So he’s definitely gone to meet him, right?” says Ruben numbly, playing with the handle of the cup of coffee sat in front him without drinking it. He made it just because it’s a go-to activity whenever they’re stressed, rather than because they actually want it. Ruben makes good coffee, but right now Vanessa would only drink it if Usnavi were here to make it.

“We must have missed him by about twenty minutes,” she says. “Twenty fucking minutes.”

Ruben puts his head down on the kitchen table and makes a terrible keening sound that she can’t begin to describe, his whole body heaving with his breaths. Where usually the signs of an impending flashback fill her with dread like his fear is a reverb in her own veins, all she feels is resigned inevitability. Who can blame the guy? If she was prone to panic attacks she’d be having one too. Usnavi is with Jason and there’s nothing they can do about it.

She counts aloud in Spanish even though Ruben’s too far gone to follow her rhythm. He’s still got Usnavi’s hat held tightly in one hand, his knuckles clenched white around it.

***

**5:57pm**

Silence.

Ruben sips a glass of water, still shaking so much that he spills it over himself.

Vanessa braids her hair, stares at the wall across from her.

Ruben’s hand creeps under his sleeve and he scratches at his scars like they're itching.

Vanessa unbraids her hair.

Ruben’s movements get more insistent, nails digging in harshly.

Vanessa reaches out, pulls Ruben’s hand out from his sleeve, lays her own hand softly over the top to flatten his palm down to the table, her eyes fixed on the wall the entire time.

***

**6:33pm**

“What do you  _mean_ , it’s not an emergency?” Ruben snaps into the phone. “My boyfriend might be out with a guy who tried to kill me! It’s — well, no, I can’t say for  _sure_  , but they were in contact and now he’s gone, and…great, fantastic, great, why don’t I just go stand by the Hudson and see if I can spot anyone dropping a body into it, that’s the only way we’re going to find him at this rate…fine. Whenever it’s convenient for you, I guess.”

Ruben hangs up, and says “motherfuckers” for about the thirtieth time tonight.

“Sounds like that went well,” says Vanessa, biting her thumbnail.

“They said it’s not been long enough to count as missing persons and am I sure he hasn’t just gone out for a walk. They’re sending an officer to come talk to us, but it’ll probably be a few hours at least.” Ruben sighs.

“Maybe he’ll be here by then,” she says, sounding unconvinced.

***

**7:04pm**

“I know.”

“I  _mean_  it, Ruben, el mayor idiota de la historia, why would he  _do_  this—“

“I don’t know.”

“What kinda fucked up is his head that this seemed like the best option?! Mierda, and he didn’t even take a phone with him, it’s like he’s deliberately tryna make it not just a bad idea but the actual worst possible idea that anyone’s ever had—“

“I know.”

“I just want him to come  _back_.”   
  
“I know.”

***

**7:58pm**

“Why the hell ain’t the police here yet?” Vanessa asks. “How is this happening?”   
  
“They don’t care,” says Ruben, blankly. “Are you surprised?”

“No, not really. If anythin' happens to him, I’m gonna burn the entire fuckin' city down, I swear to god.”

“Yeah."

“Real comfortin',” she drawls. “You’re supposed to say Usnavi won’t approve of that.”

“Are we really gonna use Usnavi’s judgement as a metric here?” says Ruben. “If anything happens to him I’m gonna be the one handing you the fucking matches. Where the fuck _is_  he?”

***

**8:24pm.**

If Usnavi’s clocks were analogue, Ruben would be watching the second hand. As it is, he counts in his head, ends up there a few seconds early, but his eyes are still fixed on the clock as 8:24 shifts into 8:25, and Usnavi hasn’t come home to them.

He makes a noise of despair, a low pained whine, and Vanessa raises her head from her hands to look at him. “Ruben?”  
  
“He’s dead,” Ruben whispers, this one minute all it took for him to be certain this is true, and she shudders and shakes her head violently. “He is. He’s  _dead_ , because I’m a fucking moron who got in touch with a guy who I knew was capable of it, and I brought him here, and Usnavi went out and got himself killed because of me.”

“He is not dead,” Vanessa says. “He’s not, because- because he can’t be, and you said that Jason said Ian’s gone now, so—“

“Do you really trust Jason’s word on this?” Ruben asks. “Would you bet Usnavi’s life on it?"

She doesn’t answer.

***

**8:51 pm**

Neither of them say anything. Not for almost thirty minutes, and Ruben can feel the descending haze of another breakdown. He flexes his hands, clenched and unclenched, and he’s about to break the silence to ask Vanessa to count his breathing for him when the front door to the apartment bursts open loudly.

Both of them startle and then immediately rush to the hallway, where Usnavi - it’s actually him, he’s  _here_  - is leaning against the closed door. His face is flushed bright red with cold, and he looks like absolute shit, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder like he’s been pulling at it. He’s wearing one of Ruben’s sweaters underneath his jacket.

He’s here. He’s alive. Ruben’s never felt relief like this before. Ruben’s never felt this angry in his entire goddamn life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Usnavi**

Vanessa and Ruben descend on Usnavi the second he’s through the door, which usually only means good things but right now is too much to process. Vanessa’s grabbing his arm and Ruben’s touching his face, hand warm against Usnavi’s cold skin, and they’re both asking “are you okay? Did he hurt you?”, their words all falling over each other.

“What?” says Usnavi. His whole body feels like it’s sparking, strange and static. It’s been a really long day. “No. I’m fine.”

Ruben exhales, a deliberate slow thing. He’s holding Usnavi’s hat in one hand. “We’d better call the police, tell them not to come over.”

“What?” Usnavi repeats, bewildered. He lets Vanessa help him out of his jacket, his fingers too chilled to fumble the buttons on his own. “Why did you call the police? What’s happenin'?”

“What’s happening is you went off to meet Jason,” says Vanessa, in a carefully emotionless voice, the one that’s way more scary than her shouting. She hangs Usnavi’s jacket on the hook. “By yourself. Without tellin' us where you were goin', or what you were doin', and without even takin' a phone. So tell me, Usnavi, when exactly did you go  _completely fuckin' insane_?”

Usnavi grits his teeth. Like he needed reminding that he makes terrible choices, he’s already perfectly aware of that. Ruben and Vanessa are both folding their arms in unison and staring Usnavi down. He flattens his back against the door again, cornered.

“Well, shit, are we makin' decisions as a group again now?” he says, and he’s not sure where this bitterness keeps coming from. They have every right to be pissed at him. He’s pissed at himself too. “I thought we didn’t need to ask around before we went somewhere, right, Vanessa?”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you today?” she asks frustratedly. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Usnavi doesn’t know. He’s just spent hours trying to shake someone who might not even have been tailing him, he just met the man who’s responsible for everything that happened to Ruben. Vanessa’s probably even more set on leaving after this and Usnavi doesn’t blame her. There’s been a lurking sense of dread stuck inside him for days that he can’t seem to shake and now it seems like it was justified and it still doesn’t feel like it’s over yet. Everything is changing too much. He’s filled with grief he thought he’d long since learnt how to handle. And he’s angry at Vanessa and Ruben but he’s got no idea why. How does he put how that all mixed up together feels into words that do it justice?

He shrugs, petulantly.

“Oh, super mature,” Vanessa says. “Between the pouting and pullin' dumb stunts like this and the fact you apparently  _smoke_  now, what, are you havin' some kind of bullshit second teenage rebel phase?”

It’s so unfair and so close to the truth at once. The last time Usnavi felt anything like this he was a month away from eighteen years old and suddenly, extremely alone.

“Fuck, so sue me for freakin' out when I find out Ruben’s in touch with the person who tortured him,” he says, sharply. Vanessa makes an irritated gesture and turns away like  _I give up._

_“_ I’m gonna tell the police we don’t need them,” she says. “You two do whatever the fuck you want.”

She doesn’t leave the hallway though, just stands at the opposite end by the kitchen door, half-turned towards them as she makes the call like she’s keeping an eye on Usnavi.

Usnavi turns to Ruben, who squares up ready in response. “You didn’t even tell us, Ruben. For all I know you woulda gone to meet him or somethin'.”

“What, like you did?” Ruben says, sarcasm so heavy his words are lead weights. “Yeah, your way was  _so_  much better, Usnavi. Go through my phone and then rush headlong into something without a second thought about how goddamn dangerous it might be, because god forbid you actually think through the consequences to something. You really nailed it.”

“I didn’t go through your phone!” Usnavi argues. “I didn’t mean to look. I took it by accident and then he was callin' and I did the first thing that came to mind.”

“And the first thing that came to mind was pretend to be me and meet up with him?” Ruben plucks at the sleeve of Usnavi’s sweater. “Why the fuck would that ever be anyone’s first reaction to anything?”

God, he wishes Ruben would give him some space to think for a second. “I’m not saying it was a  _good_  idea! I changed my mind but then he saw me before I could leave and thought I was you and — it got confusing. And better me seeing him than you, if we’re gonna get onto people not thinking through consequences, how long have you been talking to him again? You should have  _told_  us.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I should do,” says Ruben, sounding furious. “And you do not get to take some moral high ground on not telling people shit, not right now. I can’t believe you fucking spoke to him. Do you know what it was like to realize you’d gone to meet him on your own? You can’t even imagine— you have no idea,  _no idea_  how terrifying that was for me, for both of us.”

“Well, apparently you weren’t gonna tell the guy to go fuck himself, and I couldn’t not do anythin'.”

Ruben’s face contorts in something that’s not quite anger but close, and he yells “it’s not your job to babysit me!”

Vanessa hurriedly finishes her call and comes back over, puts a hand on Ruben's elbow. "Ruben," she says, gently like she's trying to cool his temper, but he doesn't look away from Usnavi, eyes burning.

“That’s not what I was _doing_! I was tryin' to keep you safe!” Usnavi shouts, matching his volume. Ruben looks surprised but he doesn’t flinch, lifting his chin defiantly. 

“I’ve dealt with worse than a phone call from Jason Cole,” he snaps. “And I dragged myself through Ian and the warehouse and through wanting to fucking  _kill_  myself every second of the goddamn day and I came out the other side of it, so I really don’t need you to get involved for me like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe  _I_ need me to get involved!” Usnavi fires back, through a sudden crushing sensation: another thing he didn’t know about Jamaica, more ways it’s a miracle Ruben’s even alive today. It does nothing to help the fear beating frenetic underneath his fury. “Do you think I don’t think about that shit all the time? Do you think I’m not aware how close we were to never even knowin' you? I don’t care which one of them he is, he’s more of a danger to you than he is to me, and I’m not gonna sit by and risk more people I love just because you think you gotta do everythin' by yourself!”

There’s a labored rasp under his words he’s never felt before. Vanessa's moving towards him and Ruben’s unfolding his arms with an alarmed look and Usnavi’s not even angry any more. He squeezes his eyes closed, presses the heel of his hand over his aching chest. He doesn’t want them to be mad. He just wants them to be safe. He wants them to not hate him. He doesn’t want anything to take them away from him.

“Usnavi,” says Ruben, not shouting any more.

“I won’t let it happen again. I won’t let it happen to you.” It comes out hardly understandable, his throat is too constricted.

“Usnavi, breathe!”

“Can’t,” Usnavi says, and saying it aloud makes it even truer. “Ruben, help me, I can’t breathe!”

A hand on his back - Vanessa directing him forwards towards the living room, swearing quietly. Where his lungs have kept feeling like they’ve been on fire for god knows how long now it’s suddenly a cold, empty vacuum like how it must be to open an airlock in a spaceship, and Usnavi knows this must be how dying feels. He’s doing the motions of inhaling and not enough is getting in. He’s scared. Holy shit, he’s really scared, and that only makes it worse.

Vanessa sits him down on the couch, stays silent by his side with one hand on his shoulder as Ruben crouches in front of him.

“If you can still talk, you can breathe. You’re having a panic attack,” Ruben tells him, all the anger from before softened back to Ruben’s usual self. Usnavi looks into Ruben’s wide, worried eyes, rolls the words  _panic attack_  round his mind and is surprised to find he can breathe easier just from knowing that.

“Oh,” he gasps. Ruben’s described the feeling of his own, vaguely, and of course Usnavi’s looked into them online but he never could imagine actually having one. “I hate it?”

Ruben laughs, dry and sad. “Me too, but at least we know how to deal with them. Uno, dos, tres, respira, remember?”

Usnavi inhales and exhales as close to Ruben’s counting as he can manage, touches his own numb lips and thinks about the rasping sound of assisted respiration, about sudden silence, the beeping of a failing heart monitor.

“They wouldn't let me take them to the hospital,” Usnavi says, as best he can get the words out around the wheezing. He's never talked to Vanessa and Ruben about this, never really told anyone except Abuela but they need to know, he needs them to get why all this is so important. “Said we couldn’t afford it. I got sick too but then I was fine, and they said they’d be okay, so I believed them and I didn’t do anything till it was too late to help and that's why they both died.”

“Oh my god,  _Usnavi_ ,” says Vanessa, shocked, and Ruben flings himself into one of those all-limbs hugs he does then instantly draws away like he's just remembered Usnavi's freaking out.

“Shit, sorry, fuck—“

But Usnavi isn’t like Ruben with touch, not even when he’s panicking, and the sudden sense of shipwreck from losing the contact is overpowering. He pulls him back desperately with clawing hands like he’s drowning. “Don’t go, don’t go, you can’t leave—!“

Ruben obligingly wraps himself back around Usnavi immediately. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. What do you need?”

“You,” Usnavi says. He grabs for Vanessa, who takes his hand in both of hers, then runs one hand all the way up and down his forearm. “Vanessa. I need you to be here, I need everyone to be alright, I need Mamá and Pai and  _Abuela_ —“

Vanessa makes a soft, sad noise. “We’re here, honey, we're right here. I wish I could give you everything else, too.”

“I miss them all so fucking much,” Usnavi says, the air around him thinning again. “I could have done more. For all of them. Abuela’s medicine—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, quiet and intense. She runs a hand through Usnavi’s hair, then takes his hat from where Ruben had dropped it onto the couch and fixes it on his head. It helps. He pulls it down as far as he can over his eyes. “It was  _not_  your fault, Usnavi. None of them.”  
  
“I know it wasn’t my  _fault_ ,” he tries to explain, though he’s not sure how to make sense of it or even how true that is. “But I could have  _done_  more. I could have changed things, and then they’d still be here. I have to keep you safe, you get it? That’s why I went today. I have to. It can’t happen again.”  
  
The truth is, though, that it can happen again, looking increasingly likely that it might do, so Usnavi doesn’t know how he’s supposed to ever get his breath back.

***

**Ruben**

Ruben counts in Spanish, and holds Usnavi close to him, and Vanessa murmurs soothing words that Ruben can’t quite hear, and Usnavi cries and cries and cries. It’s unbearable. It sounds like the world ending.  Is this what it’s like for them when they see Ruben this way? It can’t possibly be. This has to be worse than seeing anything that Ruben feels, because this is _Usnavi_ , who’s never supposed to feel this way. There’s crawling sensations like unwanted hands across Ruben’s body, but he breathes to his own count too and the feeling stays mostly under control, at least on hold if not averted forever. He won’t be much help if he falls into a flashback himself.

Eventually it passes. These things always pass. Usnavi slumps against Ruben, still panting like he’s been running, more from tiredness than from hyperventilation now. Vanessa’s holding onto his hand like she’s afraid to let go of it.

“How are you feeling, cariño?” Ruben asks, the rare nickname borrowed from the way Ruben’s mom has always comforted him slipping out unexpectedly.

“Been better,” says Usnavi, sounding utterly destroyed. “I didn’t know they  _felt_  that way. How do you deal with it? It was awful.”

Ruben says “I got used to it. Let’s hope you don't have to.” He hesitates. “I, uh, didn’t realize how they look from the outside. I mean, I’ve talked students through anxiety stuff before but they're not  _you_ , it’s different. Does…does it always feel that bad to watch?”

“Yes,” says Vanessa. She looks shaken.

Usnavi nods agreement. “You might be used to havin' them but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing them. I don’t  _want_  to get used to it. I just…all I want is for you to be safe. It made me kinda crazy today. I shouldn’ta gone to see Jason, that was stupid.”

“You’re damn right it was,” says Ruben, but he can’t find it in himself to be properly pissed again, not when someone can care so hard about him they’d do this for him. He’s not okay with Usnavi putting himself in the firing line, not even a little bit, but Ruben can’t pretend he wouldn’t do something equally reckless or worse for either of them. And he’s tired of feeling everything at top volume now anyway. He just wants today to be finished. “I get why you did it. I do. But I’m not gonna be able to feel safe if you don’t let me keep  _myself_  safe, if you run off doing shit like this without telling me.”

“I know,” says Usnavi, remorseful, then adds, “I did check, I made sure he didn’t follow me home. That’s why I was gone so long, I hid and then I went all over the place and I walked from 135th so I could stay more out of sight. That way if he’d followed he’d lose my trail before he could find you. Kinda too late for it to make you feel better but you wasn’t ever in danger from him, I swear.”

He says it like he thinks Ruben would somehow be reassured to hear about Usnavi going way off his usual routes and walking all that way in the dark by himself while someone tracked his steps. For someone who is very bright, Usnavi’s sometimes so unbelievably oblivious, and he’s taken that to a new extreme today. He thinks too quick for his brain to keep up with himself, is the trouble. It’s a big part of why Ruben loves him, but damn, it can be messy.

“Usnavi, not for one second was it  _me_  that I was worried about today.” Ruben looks at Usnavi, still in the sweater that’s too big for him and the hat hiding half of his face, and now Ruben’s crying too, all of a sudden, he doesn’t really know how he managed to not be doing that for so long. “I thought…we had no way to contact you, we had no idea where to even start looking for you if you didn’t come back. A-and it got past eight twenty-five, we can’t know for sure that Ian’s not around, and even Jason’s fucked up enough to have come all the way from Philadelphia to stalk me for god knows what reason, for all I know he’s got some personal grudge or— _.”_

Ruben presses his mouth against the top of Usnavi’s head, almost a kiss but lingering with it, while he tries to keep himself in check.

“You were gone for almost four hours,” he says eventually, as evenly as possibly. “Do you know how much can happen in four hours? Do you know that’s about the same amount of time Ian kept me in that warehouse? I thought that they’d find you too late dead in some derelict building somewhere and we’d have been sitting here drinking fucking coffee while it happened because we didn’t know where you were. Or- or that you’d be alive but he would have— that you’d end up like this. Like me, or worse. Usnavi, I was so fucking  _scared_ of what he might have done to you.”

“I’m  _sorry_ ,” says Usnavi, agonized. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I know.”

“I need you to be safe too. There’s things I don’t ever want you to understand.”

“I know you don’t,” says Usnavi. “But I’m here now. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” says Ruben, suddenly realizing. “Shit, you’re really not, are you? You’ve not been yourself at all lately.”

Usnavi ducks his head like he’s embarrassed. “Well, maybe not quite fine,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you say anythin' before, honey?” asks Vanessa, lifting Usnavi’s chin with two gentle fingers. “You ain't normally one to keep secrets. I knew you weren’t happy about the store and that this is a rough time of year for you but there’s a lot more than that goin' on in here, ain't there?” She taps him on the forehead. 

“I didn’t really know I felt  _this_  bad till today,” he says. “Been tryna see the bright side, you know? I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you about California, querida. I want to be supportive, I do. I just keep thinking you’re gonna slip away. Something’s gonna happen to one of you and I won’t be there to help, or I won’t have been paying attention till it’s too late again, or you’ll realize I’m not enough for you, and then I’ll lose you too.”

“I can’t promise nothing will happen to us,” says Ruben. “But Usnavi, why the hell would you ever think you aren’t enough?”

“It’s not like, logical or anything, I know you both love me and all. I-I just worry sometimes,” Usnavi says, twisting the fabric of his sweater between his fingers. It’s an unsettling thing to look at him like this, Ruben’s own familiar unhappy movements all wrong on Usnavi’s body, and only reminding Ruben more of how things could have gone today. “You’re both so— you’re going to go so far. I always knew you would and I’m so damn proud of you but I don’t know where I’m going and it feels like nowhere. I’m not the coffee guy any more, and I’m not doing so great at being the happy guy and I can’t even look after either of you without fucking it up, so—“ his voice breaks high-pitched like he’s choking on a sob. “I don’t know who I  _am_  right now.”

“Dios mío, there’s just a whole load of stuff to unpack with you, isn’t there?” Vanessa says. “No wonder you totally lost your shit today.”

Usnavi gives a hiccupy laugh, and Vanessa kisses his cheek. Ruben can see tears on her lashes. “You’ve always been more than just those things, though, I promise that you have. Te amo, Usnavi, siempre. Even when you’re being a fuck-up.”

“Te amo también. Los amo a ambos.” Usnavi rubs at his eyes, yawning. Ruben’s suddenly sharply aware of the four year age gap between them. It seems a lot more at this moment. “Lo siento. To both of you. I’m not tryna excuse how I acted with the pity card or whatever, I swear I’m not, I know I messed up bad. I’m kind of a huge disaster recently.”

“You’re always a disaster,” says Vanessa, fondly. “But I like it better when you’re a happy disaster.”

“Me too,” Usnavi sighs. “I’ll get back there, though. Always do.” He goes limp against Ruben’s shoulder. “Damn.  _Tired_.”

“Yeah, that happens,” says Ruben. “Is that everything now? Did we get everything? I can't deal with more emotions today. We can sort out what to actually do with all of this tomorrow, it’s definitely bedtime.”

“I’ma just sleep here, I think,” says Usnavi. “Bed’s too far away.”

“Nope,” says Ruben. “Come on. Vanessa, get the door.”

She does, as Ruben scoops Usnavi up with an arm at his back and the other under his knees, staggers a little under Usnavi’s weight.

“Not gonna lie, kinda into this,” says Usnavi sleepily as Ruben carries him through to the bedroom.

“Don’t get used to it, I think I sprained my everything,” says Ruben, depositing him on the bed with minimal elegance. “Ow. That's the last time I attempt a manly display of strength, for a small guy you weigh a ton.”

“It’s all muscle,” Usnavi mumbles, and falls deeply asleep within seconds. He doesn’t wake up when Ruben takes off his shoes, makes a murmured complaining noise when Vanessa jostles him while she takes his jeans off for him, but otherwise he’s completely under.

They get in bed either side of Usnavi, and even after lying there for what feels like an hour Ruben’s still awake. He listens to Usnavi and Vanessa breathing almost in unison like a white noise machine. There’s something urging him to put a hand over Usnavi’s chest to feel the rise and fall of it, and he remembers in his dream the other day holding him down, holding a knife and—

“Ruben?” whispers Vanessa, cutting through his thoughts.

Ruben can’t get himself to speak - he’s so  _fucking_  tired - but he lifts his hand to link with hers, resting against Usnavi’s hip.

“I can’t sleep.”

He squeezes her hand.  _Me neither._

“I…I thought he mighta been dead too.” She sounds as wrecked as Ruben feels. “Not for most of it, but there was about fifteen minutes right at the end when I thought he mighta been dead and that the last conversation we had I woulda told him he wasn’t anythin' to do with my future and— shit, Ruben, I woulda been  _right_.”

Even if Ruben could talk he wouldn’t know what to say to that. He squeezes her hand again andslides himself further down the bed so he can lay his head against Usnavi’s chest, listening to Usnavi’s heartbeat slow in sleep and trying to will his own to match the steady rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: writing this made me tired]


	14. Chapter 14

**Vanessa**

Vanessa wakes to Ruben’s work alarm and shuts it off fast before it disturbs the guys. Neither of them stir: Ruben always sleeps a lot after his worse panic attacks and apparently that applies for Usnavi too. That thought makes her heart clench so much that she has to get up immediately just to shake the feeling.

Once she’s called in sick to work citing a family emergency - there’s too much air needs clearing here for her to leave them today - and sent a message from Ruben’s phone to the college saying the same, she scribbles a note that the bodega is closed for the day, runs down to affix it to the door while still in her pajamas. That’s business taken care of.

The sound of Usnavi sobbing into Ruben’s shoulder last night won’t stop running through her head. She stands in the shower turned towards the spray so that she can pretend there’s not tears on her own face, and lets herself replay it for three counts of sixty seconds. Then she wipes her hands across her eyes, and finally grabs the shower gel. By the time she’s finished it’s like she was never even crying.

There’s a little shelf of Vanessa’s own toiletries here at Usnavi’s place, has been ever since staying over became a regular thing. Usnavi is criminally unfussy about his own bathroom products: she has actually known him to wash his hair with hand soap. But today she picks up his deodorant instead of her own and sprays it across herself, so she’s surrounded by that generic functional-not-fancy scent that is objectively not appealing but is so tangled up in the whole construction of Usnavi in her head that sometimes she passes people wearing it in the street and has to suppress the urge to call him immediately.

Her heart stops for a minute back in the bedroo, at the sight of Ruben sleeping in an empty bed with his face pressed into the pillow, until she spots the note on the side in Usnavi’s messy handwriting that says “on the fire escape, brb <3”

She throws on a pair of Usnavi’s sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts and takes Ruben’s sweater off the back of the chair, pulling it on as she heads towards the kitchen window. Usnavi’s sitting on the metal steps outside, smoking. He waves his cigarette at her in greeting and she leans against the railing a little distance away so she doesn’t get the smell of it all over her.

“Not much point tryna be sneaky about it now,” he says, and takes a drag.

“Wish you wouldn’t,” she says.

“I’ll quit again soon.”

“How long’s that been a thing?” she asks.

“Since my parents,” he answers. “Not all the time, obviously. A lot more recently. Sometimes I need a bad habit.”

“I guess we all got something,” she says, and falls silent to watch him smoke. It’s not the first time she’s seen it: they’ve got high together a couple of times, not as often as they used to any more. She always liked watching him roll up, liked the way he closed his eyes every time he cupped his hand around the end to light it. It’s a good look on him, how he holds it in his long fingers and the lazy way he lets the smoke curl itself out across his parted lips instead of blowing it away. She could picture him in black and white like this, high contrast. Hair dark against the pale grey sky.

Vanessa doesn’t like this, though, not without the warm hedonistic feeling of sharing something illicit, of covering the smoke detector and passing a joint between them cuddled together on the couch watching movies. This is just Usnavi on the fire escape in the sweater he fell asleep in and his pajama pants, looking kind of cold and kind of sad in the washed-out winter morning. This is just Usnavi who has secrets and needs bad habits to make them weigh less, with that always-grieving part of him that she knew was hidden but didn’t realize the shape of till yesterday.

Her and Nina have talked about Usnavi’s parents a lot, especially just after it happened, both of them trying to comprehend something so big. The De la Vegas had  _always_  run the bodega, had their share of babysitting duties when they were all tiny, threw potluck dinners and holiday parties. The gap was strange enough when it wasn’t their own parents, the sudden space where two people who had always been there just  _weren’t_. How much worse must it feel to suddenly be an orphan?

Somehow, even though it seems obvious now he’s said it, they never thought to wonder if he ever felt responsible.

“It wasn’t at the exact same time,” he says, like he’s reading the direction of her thoughts. “The ambulance took them both in the morning. They…I couldn’t wake them up. The Rosarios drove me to the hospital, and I sat there for hours. Mamá was first, she only made it till evening. She’d been sick for longer, and her asthma, she just couldn’t hold on any more. And I thought that maybe Pai—he was in better condition, physically, they said if he lasted the night there’d be a good chance and it got to like four AM, so I hoped…but he was gone by five. I think he must've known she wasn’t here any more and didn’t want her to have to do whatever’s next on her own. They always went new places together.”

She knew all this from Nina, who was there, and Usnavi knows she knows. It's not something she's heard from Usnavi himself. He talks about his parents frequently. He never talks about losing them. 

He stands, stubs his cigarette out against the wall and flicks the end off the fire escape. “And then it was just me. They must’ve thought I’m stronger than I am. I don’t like bein' on my own either.”

“You aren’t on your own,” Vanessa says, aching with sympathy. This is something that she knew about him already, of course, that he loves to surround himself with company. But another thing which seems so obvious now: she never really thought to wonder if Usnavi ever feels lonely. It seems impossible, everyone adores him and he spends so much time with people, but perhaps that doesn’t always fix it. She takes his hand. “Dammit, Usnavi, every time I think I must know everything about you by now. Seven years and you never thought to talk this out with anyone?”

“I guess we all got something,” he says, shrugs. “It’s not usually this everywhere. Anyway, Abuela knew.”

Of course she did. But it’ll be three years in July since Abuela died, and he’s carrying that weight too.

“I’m stayin',” blurts Vanessa, out of nowhere. She didn’t even realise she was going to say it.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna go to California,” she says, more certainly. 

Usnavi looks hopeful, then his face falls again. “Vanessa, no, you can’t stay just because of this.”

“Don’t say it like that, _just because_. It’s not a small thing.”

Think about Ruben, hyperventilating at the kitchen table when they realized where Usnavi had gone. Think about Usnavi, that horrible rasping inhale as he told them he wasn’t going to lose anyone else. Dependency is death by suffocation, point proven, but if they’d lose their breath for love then Vanessa won’t give any less herself.

She wanted to know they could survive without her, but she hadn’t really considered the idea that they might literally not  _survive_. That things can get taken away so fast. Usnavi’s parents lost in one day, Abuela in a morning, any chance of Ruben living a normal life taken away in four hours. They’d missed Usnavi leaving by twenty minutes yesterday. Imagine if she’d had to live the rest of her life without him for the sake of twenty minutes.

Four months is a long, long time.

“I don’t wanna go and then have nothin' to come back to,” she says. “I was never gonna leave and not come home. If something happens and you aren’t here any more…”

“You’d still have Ruben,” he points out.

“I know I’d have Ruben, and of course I’d come back for him. But you went out to meet that cabrón to keep Ruben safe, even though you woulda still had me if somethin' happened to him.It’s not like replacing a goldfish, Usnavi.Ruben isn’t you, you ain’t him. We’re not three people just to keep a spare for emergencies. You know that.”

“The thing is,” Usnavi muses. “The thing with that is, I could get hit by a cab outside my apartment.”

“Christ, you’re really embracing this whole dark and gritty reboot, ain’t you?”

“No,” he says. “What I mean is, you could stay here to make sure we're safe and I could still get run over right outside where I live any time. Or I could wanna keep you here and the whole city gets destroyed by an asteroid and you would've been safer in California after all. Stayin' or leavin' don’t guarantee nothin’, for any of us. I was in the same apartment as my parents every single day and that didn’t do shit to help them.”

He sighs. “I don’t— my parents, Abuela, it ain't that I blame myself exactly. It’s just I’m never gonna not think about what I coulda done different if I’d known how it'd end. I don’t know what’s gonna happen to any of us and it scares the shit out of me, that’s why I went kinda nuts yesterday. I don’t wanna look back and think  _I coulda saved them_  about you or Ruben, I don’t ever want to have to think that about another person again. But, I also don’t want to look back and think _I stopped them from bein' happy_. And there’s a lot more I can do about that.”

The lesson Vanessa learns about love over and over and always seems to forget until moments where it really matters: that she’d give up everything including freedom for them. That they’d never let her do it. She wonders how he could ever doubt that he was strong.

“I ain't askin' for your permission either way,” she says, just to be clear.

“I ain’t offerin' it,” he says, rolls his eyes because of course he already knows that. “What do you really wanna do, querida?”

“I want to take the job.”

Usnavi is smiling at her, encouraging.

“Shit,” she says, and laughs. “Shit, then I guess I’m really gonna do it.”

“You’ll be amazing,” he says, kisses her hard. “You always are.”

Ruben’s stumbling into the kitchen with his hair looking like an explosion and a crumpled, sleepy expression when they get back into the apartment.

“S’goin' on?” he asks, looking at their joined hands and what Vanessa can only assume is the dumbest grin across her own face.

“I’m goin' to California,” she tells him, and his face goes even more wrinkled up with bemusement.

“Already knew that,” he says, unimpressed, and turns his back in search of caffeine. He short-circuits while holding the coffee pot, staring blearily at it like its a complex piece of lab equipment he doesn’t know how to use. Usnavi takes it out of his hand and shoves Ruben gently towards a chair, taking over.

The smell of coffee has some kind of placebo caffeine effect soon enough because Ruben wakes up a little and says “oh,  _wait_ , does this mean you two…?”

“Yeah, we cool,” says Usnavi, then looks uncertainly at Vanessa.

“We cool,” she affirms, and Usnavi nods, relieved.

“Good,” says Ruben, smiles at Vanessa. “I’m happy for you. We’re gonna miss you.”

“Uh, yeah, I fuckin’ hope so,” she says, points at both of them sternly. “I don’t wanna come back here to find out you fell in two-person love and ran off to get married and had a bunch of big-eyed clone babies that Ruben made in his lab.”

“Not after four months,” Ruben says. “Be realistic. Do you know how long it takes to make a clone baby?”

She squints at him suspiciously. “…Do  _you_?”

Usnavi puts Vanessa's drink in front of her. “I promise that when you’re gone we will exclusively spend our time together pinin' over you, querida.”

Ruben accepts his own coffee and gives a mournful sigh. “Hey, Usnavi, remember how Vanessa used to drink coffee in the mornings just like this? Out of a cup? With her mouth? I miss Vanessa.”  
  
“Hey, Ruben, remember how Vanessa used to sit in chairs too? Ones in kitchens, next to tables. What a woman. If only she weren’t in California,” agrees Usnavi.

“Why even bother having chairs when she’s not here to sit in them, really?” says Ruben. “Fuck it, let’s burn the furniture.”

“I don’t trust either of you to not actually do that,” Vanessa says, and sips her too-hot coffee to hide the fact she can’t stop smiling.

***

**Ruben**

They smile and talk through breakfast and Ruben is so relieved things are okay between all of them even though things are very far from okay in a more general sense. They’ve never fought before, not like that, and even though Ruben had known that all of it came from the clash of three different approaches to a deep, fierce love, there’d been a part of him (seven years old, listening from his bedroom to his parents yelling down the hallway) that had said,  _this is it for the three of you, it’s over._

The anger’s gone, but Ruben can see the way Vanessa keeps staring too intently at Usnavi when she thinks neither of them will notice, and the way Usnavi’s smile drops too quickly when he thinks they’ve turned away from him.

Love is exhausting.

And then there’s the tension of knowing that at some point they’re all gonna have to deal with aftermath. In all the stress of last night they've only learnt half-stories. After breakfast they sit in the living room and Ruben explains to Usnavi about Blackout, about Jason, everything, then finally sits back and gives him a look.

“So,” he says, “Yesterday.”

Usnavi shrinks down in his seat.“I’m sorr—“

Ruben shushes him. “I think we covered all the apologies. Let’s just get through this without shouting or collapsing into an infinite sorry loop. I should’ve told you, you shouldn’t have gone to meet him, everyone loves each other, we get it.”

“Very efficient,” says Vanessa. “Love it. Can we do  _all_  our emotional conversations in bullet point form from now on?”

“I don’t want to think about this any longer than I have to,” says Ruben. “Yesterday sucked. I wanna find out what happened with Jason so I can stop imagining what  _could_  have happened, and then I want to watch shitty daytime tv and Usnavi can give me a shoulder massage because I need it and frankly I think he owes me that much.”

“That’s fair,” says Usnavi. “Not much to tell. Most of the time I was gone really was just me tryin' not to let him follow me back here. He saw me on the platform, thought I was you but only till he got up close, I was kinda rattled so, um, he did end up findin' out that I know you.” He grimaces. “I’m not great under pressure.”

Yeah, no shit. Ruben tries to ignore the instinctive fear at that. “That’s probably okay, right? I mean, he knows you know me but he doesn’t actually know who you are.”

“Unless you were rattled enough to introduce yourself by full name,” says Vanessa. “You weren’t, were you? Didn’t hand him a business card or anythin'?”

“No, but I appreciate you having so much faith in me. Like I said, I was kinda thrown because…it’s  _him_ , you know? I got dizzy and I accidentally said his name when he offered to help. Then he went all crazy-eyes and grabbed my wrist so—“

“He  _grabbed_  you?” Vanessa interrupts, outraged, and Ruben immediately pushes Usnavi’s sleeves up, turning both his arms over to check them. Sure enough, on Usnavi’s right forearm there’s a circling ring of blueish bruises, very faint but distinctly finger shaped. Jason always had a strong grip.

Vanessa says, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“ _Shit_ ,” says Ruben, quiet and forceful. He touches just to the side of the discoloration, not wanting to press on a sore point. They're not the worst bruising he's ever seen, Usnavi gives himself worse almost daily just from walking into things, but the idea of Jason’s hands leaving marks on Usnavi’s skin is something straight out of his nightmares. “Motherfucker. You said he didn’t hurt you.“

“Y’all are extra,” says Usnavi, gently reassuring. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just a bruise. Don’t even think he knew he was doing it.”

“Are you making  _excuses_ —“

“No,” says Usnavi. “To be honest, it’s kind of scarier than if he did mean to. I just don’t want you to think anything worse than what actually happened went down and start freakin' out and gettin' overprotective. Other than this basically it was just I nearly passed out on him then ran away and hid in a bathroom. Some real fuckin’ hero shit, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Ruben says. Self-deprecation feels too real after what they talked about last night, he doesn’t want to hear Usnavi talk about putting himself in danger for Ruben like it’s meaningless just because it didn’t work out well, when it meant everything. It's possible that Ruben is on high alert with Usnavi right now. He sort of wants to wrap him in a blanket and put him safely in a cupboard till everything is sorted out. That almost definitely counts as ‘freaking out and getting overprotective’, but Ruben’s not ruling it out as an option yet.

“Wasn’t all that much thought going on either,” Usnavi says, cheerful enough, but his face turns serious fast. “Ruben, you need to stop talkin' to him. I mean it. Aside from everythin' else, it’s pretty fucked up that he could do this—“ he raises his arm “—to a total stranger just ‘cause he thinks he’s entitled to information about you. I don’t know what he wants but he’s definitely not here to give you a Christmas card and then be on his merry way, y’know? Don’t give him any opportunity, man.”

“I know,” says Ruben, and the other two look surprised. “You think I’m gonna  _disagree_? After yesterday? I don’t fucking care if he signs the Blackout stuff any more. I just don’t want him anywhere near either of you. Or me, for that matter. I'm done with him.”

“Huh,” says Vanessa. “I think we just resolved a problem without anyone yellin' or cryin'. Go, team!”

“I can yell, if you feel like something’s missing,” Usnavi offers. “I think if I cry any more this week I’d be in danger of dryin' up like a raisin though.”

“It’s not resolved,” says Ruben. “I still don’t know how he knew I was here. I don’t know how much he knows about me.”

Vanessa reaches over, rests her hand at at the nape of his neck. “So we’ll be more careful. We’ll check in with you more often. Might have to make sure at least one of us stays with you every night for a while, I’m sorry, I know you like your space.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’d be happier knowing someone’s around. Can always sleep on the sofa if I wanna be on my own.”

“You probably don’t want to but it might be a good idea to give Sonny and Benny a heads-up, and a picture of the dude. I can send that along if you don’t wanna look at him,” says Usnavi. “They already sort of know his deal, and I’d kind of feel better if they knew he was around.”

“Have you thought about telling the police, maybe?” asks Vanessa. “I mean, I know they were useless yesterday, but…”

“What’s the point?” says Ruben. “It’s not like he’s even been near me or anything, what have I got on him?”

“He broke the terms of his sentence. He’s not supposed to contact you at all.”

“Come on, Vanessa, you know as well as I do that’s not gonna mean shit.” Ruben looks down, rubs a thumb across his wrist underneath his sleeve. “His fingerprints were on the knife in a room covered in my blood, and they made me take my shirt off while they took photos of what he did to me for evidence, and a judge looked at that then sent him to a hospital and let him out less than a year later for him to come find me again. I contacted him first, and I kept contacting him, and he’s rich, and he’s white, and people don’t think guys get stalked or abused.”

Vanessa doesn’t argue with him. He’s pretty sure she already thought of all that anyway.

“Well, here’s what I think,” says Usnavi. “I think you send him one last text saying that this was a mistake and you don’t want any more contact with him, and that if he tries to get in touch again you’ll call the police, and you save a screenshot of it so that you can prove you told him straight up. Then you block his number and hopefully he’ll fuck off back to Philadelphia, but if not then you’ve at least made it clear so that might help your case if we do need to get the cops involved.”

Ruben blinks. “That might work, actually. Better than what I came up with, since that mostly just involved hiding in my apartment and making you guys bring me food for the rest of my life.”

“I can be smart sometimes,” says Usnavi. “Despite what recent events suggest.”

“You’re always smart, you just can’t always hear the good ideas under the loud ones,” says Ruben, and it’s more intended as a fact than flattery but Usnavi looks pleased anyway. “Thank you. You don’t have to do this for me, either of you. I wish I hadn’t brought all this into your lives.”

“The only thing you brought into our lives was you,” says Vanessa. “It’s not your fault if other stuff followed you. And we’re happy to do this. You’ve got people on your side this time.”

Ruben’s eyes sting. He wipes them on his sleeve. “Dammit. So much for getting through this without anyone crying.”

Vanessa kisses his temple. “We’ve got this, Ruben. As long as nobody goes out on another insane self-sacrifice mission—“ she glares at Usnavi, who turns away from it, embarrassed. “— and we stop keeping secrets, then we’ll be able to handle it.”

Wouldn’t it be nice to believe that? He can't tell if it's paranoid or just realistic that he’s still full of doubt. “What if he doesn’t leave? What if he stays here?”  
  
“I hate the idea of it too, hermoso, trust me,” says Usnavi. “But, I mean, New York’s a big city, and he hasn’t found you yet.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: probs obvs but the start/second part takes place at the same time as chapters 13/14. yr regular reminder that jason is a shit and therefore his POV does not represent my views or anything even halfway ok]

**Jason**

Whoever this guy is, he’s _fast_. He’s almost out of sight taking a right down a side-street by the time Jason pushes his way through to the top of the stairs, and even though he does his best to keep up, sooner or later Jason loses track.

Dammit. What the _fuck_ was that all about? He can’t figure out what just happened, but he knows he needs to find out and fast, or this whole thing might come crumbling down. 

Except where the hell does he find someone who’s disappeared into thin air? He walks through random streets for twenty minutes, no idea where he’s going, just hoping. He doesn’t know this city, doesn’t know where people go when they don’t want to be found.

It’s rare pure luck for Jason that he catches out of the corner of his eye a disturbance - someone turning sharply around against the flow of foot traffic - and when he looks over automatically, there’s the back of the guy’s head, with that weird fluffy fake-mohawk hairstyle, still moving fast.

Jason quickly sheds his jacket and follows him at a distance, all the way down the steps to another station and immediately onto a train.

It doesn’t take long to realise that the man is definitely trying to lose him. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, but Jason’s folded his coat inside-out over his arm so the dark lining obscures the light blue outer material, he’s pulled his hat down and his scarf up. He’s pretty much invisible. They change trains frequently with barely any warning before the man ducks out of the doors and heads to whatever next train is nearest, or sometimes darts up the stairs to walk to a new station. The cat-and-mouse thing only makes Jason even more determined to follow and figure out what’s going on.

The guy looks around but doesn’t spot Jason, runs a hand through his messy hair, tugging hard at it with a sigh so heavy Jason can see it all the way across the subway car. He keeps shaking his head at nothing and covering his face with both hands. Maybe he’s just crazy. Just someone who knows Ruben and has a couple of screws loose and has the whole story mixed up in his head. It’d explain why he said Jason’s name with such resentment, if he only half-understood what really happened.

There’s no doubt they know each other, though - how else would whoever wrote those texts have known the details about the cure? -which means the man could lead Jason to Ruben, and Jason wouldn’t even be breaking the conditions of his freedom for most of it. Can’t pass up on plausible deniability. It’s less risky than following Ruben directly.

Although what will Jason even do if he catches up to him?

He knows what Ian would do. No, not an option. He’s not like that. If nothing else, that’d definitely defeat the point of what he’s doing here, trying to get a fresh start. God knows Jason doesn’t need anything else on his record.

But, he reasons, it’s not necessary to actually _hurt_ the guy. Jason wouldn’t need to hurt him to waylay him and ask him what his deal is, maybe use him to convince Ruben to come along. It wouldn’t be difficult at all. Jason’s always taken pride in staying fit, and now that he’s got so much fucking free time since he doesn’t have a job, that’s about the only thing he _can_ do, so he’s in good shape. The man was quite small, and even though he obviously knew enough about technique to break a hold, he wasn’t strong. He definitely wouldn’t have anything on Jason without the element of surprise.

Not here, of course. They’ve been zigzagging around, but everywhere they’ve ended up so far is crowded, and everywhere is brightly illuminated under streetlights. It’d be a bad idea to cause a scene. Sooner or later the man will have to go home, and it’s already dark out so there’ll be a poorly-lit side-street or quiet alleyway to pull him into. Not to _do_ anything to him, not unless he has to. Jason just needs whatever bargaining chips he can get to make proper contact with Ruben, and after that it’ll be fine because Ruben will see his side of the story. He always did, once Jason had the chance to explain himself.

They keep switching trains, walking between stops apparently aimless. The crowds have been working in Jason’s favor so far, keeping him out of sight. When they exit at 135th, the man starts walking again, and this is starting to look like an opportunity: they’ve been going at a fast pace for some time, the guy weaving nimbly through groups of people and ducking into shadows like he’s been doing for the whole journey, but they pass a station entrance and this time he doesn’t go down the stairs to catch another train.

It’s a matter of waiting for the right moment, but before that comes along, a huge group of people spill out the door of a nearby restaurant, talking loudly and paying no attention to where they’re going. Jason gets knocked harshly to the side by someone who calls an apology without slowing his stride.

“Dick,” mutters Jason, straightening back up, looking ahead and - no. No! Fuck! He’s lost him! The street is a mess of overlapping pools of harsh light and deep shadow, of indistinct groups of people, and it’s impossible to try and pick up on any sign of the man’s black jacket or dark hair anywhere.

“Shit!” he says, then louder, “ _shit_!” Goddammit, he just spent hours trailing someone in the dead of winter, for what? Probably for the man to go back home and spin some bullshit story that paints Jason as the bad guy, if he even bothers to tell Ruben at all.

Jason walks a while longer anyway, hoping for a second stroke of luck, but eventually gives up and rides the train back to his hotel, fuming silently.

It’s late by the time Jason gets to his room, and he’s cold and tired and pissed off. He slams the door behind him and sits heavily on the bed, staring at the weird abstract hotel-room art opposite. What a waste of time. Maybe he should just pack up his shit and go back home. 

_To do what?_ he thinks. To just sit in his own beige-walled room on his own plain white bedspread, staring at art he doesn’t even like on the walls, to do nothing but eat and sleep and work out and think about what he could have been for the rest of his life?

He’s a _neurosurgeon_. And a damn good neurosurgeon at that. It’s not like that’s easily replaceable, its not like he was a fucking cleaner or working in a store. People need his expertise and he worked hard for his job, doesn’t he deserve to get it back?

He picks up the lamp, ripping it carelessly from the socket, and hurls it at the wall, listens to it smash with a savage satisfaction.

It’s nothing new that Jason doesn’t sleep well -though at least he wasn’t so aware of it when Ian was around - but tonight instead of regret keeping him up it’s almost like riding along conscious for once on Ian’s rage. Jason stays up long into the early hours, calming slightly then feeling the unfairness of it all sweep over him again and again. The bathroom mirror ends up smashed, the wardrobe door ends up with a dent from being punched, the canvas on the wall is torn across the centre. Whatever. They can put it on his bill later.

Fuck this. Fuck this. This is so _unfair_. To be given hope like that and then have it snatched away by some man - barely even that, some scruffy, unstable kid in his early twenties, by the looks of him, for no reason that Jason can fathom. What the hell would a kid know about any of this shit? He couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to lose everything the way Jason has. He has no business being involved in this.

***

“Would you like a refill?” the girl at the coffee shop asks Jason the next afternoon, bright-voiced and customer service fake-happy. It’s incredibly grating.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters distractedly, shoving his empty mug towards her. Some of the anger from last night has died down and he slept for most of the morning. Now he’s just tired and irritable, but he’s still going to be rational about this. No sense in rushing into something and fucking things up worse for himself just because he’s in a bad mood.

He’s come to the following conclusions:

The man from last night definitely knows Ruben. Most likely a relative that Ruben’s staying with, he thinks, that’d explain how Jason mistook him for Ruben at first. He also knows something about what happened with Ian, and for some reason blames Jason for it.

It was almost certainly that guy who has been contacting Jason this whole time, pretty much confirmed this morning when Jason received a message from “Ruben” saying that the Blackout thing was a mistake and to not try and contact him again. The number was blocked when Jason called it, and has stayed blocked all day, unlike the other times. So Ruben might not even be marketing Blackout again, might not have a damn clue about anything that’s been going on.

For a while that freezes Jason up in despair, because what else is he supposed to do? But then, thinking about it…in a way, isn’t that better? Ruben always wanted to make money off Blackout, kept pushing for it even when it put their whole operation at risk. If Jason’s the one to come along and give him that opportunity again, to put the idea in Ruben’s head in the first place, that puts him in an even better position than before. If it plays out how it should, Ruben gets the money he always wanted, Jason graciously offers to not take a cut, Ruben’s so grateful Jason might not even have to ask outright for forgiveness and a job recommendation. He can just hint in that direction and let Ruben think it’s all his own idea. Perfect.

The problems, twofold:

One, he’s not sure what the man from the station might have told Ruben about what happened yesterday. But that's fine, Jason’s pretty sure he can easily talk whatever it is away. He managed to get away with nobody finding out about Ian for all those years, after all, he’s used to giving explanations.

Two, more difficult: he’s not in touch with Ruben.

That’s not impossible either. It’s just that he wasn’t going to go to the college where Ruben works, was trying to be generous and let Ruben call the shots on where and when they met. Since that option no longer exists, his hands are kind of tied.

It’s risky, though. Ruben’s probably had to tell them about the Ian thing - Jason suspects that may be why his information was removed from the staff page of the college website so quickly - and someone might recognise him. Doing anything on campus would be stupid, anyway, they probably have security. But he can take some time this afternoon to scope the place out, walk around with his face hidden to figure out the layout of the campus, the likely routes Ruben might take to the subway stops or his car, if he still has that.

He finishes his coffee, sets the mug down with a firm sort of resolve. Yes. Today a trial run, and then tomorrow, the real thing.

***

Next day just before five thirty, Jason is in the sixth floor science department, hidden around the corner from the room that the bored-looking student manning the information desk says Ruben is teaching in today. He thumbs through an admissions pamphlet he picked up from the front desk, and soon enough there’s a cacophony of voices as students start pouring out of the room.

Jason sidles closer to peer around the corner and as the hubbub of students thins out he can hear more clearly fragments of individual conversations:

“— didn’t think I’d understand, but it’s actually pretty easy if—“

“—tomorrow night, and his brother can get me an ID —"

“—better today, Dr Marcado?”

There.

“I am, thankyou, Mia,” comes Ruben’s voice. “I’m sorry about cancelling class yesterday, it was unavoidable.”

“Hey, fine by me, I got to sleep in,” says the first voice again, cheerful. “My mom’s threatening to start sending in care packages with me, though. Says you obviously need someone to look after you.”

“Your mom knows I can’t be bribed to bump your grades up, right?” Ruben says. “Tell her not to worry, I get looked after fine.”

The student makes a vague, interested noise. “Oh, okay, I’ll be sure to pass that along. Anyway, see you round, Dr Marcado!” 

Ruben waves her off and she runs to catch up with her friends, and now that the corridor is mostly empty Jason can see Ruben clearly, turned in almost-profile though not enough to notice Jason behind him. It’s a strange jolt: the last he saw of Ruben was after the trial, and Ruben looked awful, underweight and tired with straggly long-ish hair. Now he’s there in a labcoat, hair cut short and neat, no more tired-looking than Ruben ever was. They could almost be standing in a corridor at IMH.

As Jason follows at a safe distance, waiting while Ruben goes into his office to re-emerge in a normal coat walking alongside a coworker, nothing at all seems different about Ruben. His coworker talks, and Ruben nods and gesticulates enthusiastically while he answers, does that occasional little half-skip to keep pace with the longer stride like he always used to with Jason.

Ruben and his colleague don’t part ways as they leave the building, and Jason realises with a sinking feeling they’re probably going to get the train together. He follows them to the station and stands at the far end of the subway car, he keeps his head low, he waits.

After around half an hour, Ruben’s coworker’s stop comes up. As soon as the train starts again, it’s the first sign that anything’s different: Ruben glances around quickly, biting his lip, then presses himself with his back flat against the side of the car. He rubs his thumb anxiously underneath his sleeve. Jason turns away more, slouches: he can barely see Ruben, but at least Ruben can’t see him either.

He’s so close now. He can’t fuck this up.

He’s so well-hidden that he almost misses it when Ruben finally gets off, stopping in the middle of the pressing crowd to look all around again before he heads to the exit. Jason overtakes as subtly as he can, ends up a few steps above on the escalator so he’ll be ready at the top where finally he can follow Ruben and get him alone somewhere.

Except no such luck. Apparently Jason just can’t catch a break. Hhe’s moving off to the edge of the sidewalk so he can see which direction Ruben goes, and just as Ruben emerges onto the street a voice shouts “Ruben!”

Ruben flinches in surprise as a tall black guy and a kid in a baseball cap shove their way through to meet him. They have a conversation Jason can’t hear, Ruben smiling down at the floor and saying something with a shrug. The kid nudges him and they start walking: the black guy pauses to scan the faces around them before he falls into step beside them.

What, are they walking him home or something? Does Ruben never have a moment alone any more? Jason doesn’t remember him ever talking to other people this much before. It was always easy to find somewhere to have a private word with him, the lab or Jason’s office or the parking lot. But the two people are stuck on either side of Ruben like glue, and they only step aside a few streets later to stop in front of corner store, where a guy in a hat is locking the door.

Jason leans casually against the building on the opposite side of the street, waits to see what will happen.

A quick conversation. The store owner hugs the kid and the black guy before the two of them wander off. And as they leave and the store owner turns back to Ruben, Jason realises two things:

One, it’s that man again, the one who met Jason at the station.

Two, judging by the…enthusiasm of his greeting, _definitely_ not a relative of Ruben’s.

Since when is Ruben gay?

Jason’s fucking furious, all of a sudden. Not about the gay thing, though he didn’t have Ruben down as the type, but he doesn’t care about that. No, he’s furious that Ruben looks so fucking _okay_ , that Ruben’s apparently got a relationship and can walk freely around talking to people in his neighborhood or chatting to coworkers, pretending he’s just like them. Meanwhile Jason’s been reduced to standing around like a creep in a city miles away from home, hiding his face and watching Ruben make out with some man.

It’s bullshit. He knows, he _knows_ Ruben’s playing pretend here. They don’t get to go back to normal lives with normal friends. It’s not how things work. Ruben can fake it all he wants, but whatever game he’s playing, it’s not gonna last. Whatever he told this guy to make him come and fuck around in Jason’s business with his texts and his false hope, it won’t change the truth.

Ruben and his boyfriend finally stop being all over each other in the middle of the street and link hands, walking together down the alley between buildings, presumably to where the door is for the apartment building above.

This is bullshit too. It would’ve made sense, perhaps, if it were a family member with a few wires crossed who came to meet Jason yesterday. But a boyfriend? Some random nobody who Ruben’s probably known less than a year, who wasn’t there when Ian happened, who couldn’t possibly comprehend anything about Ruben or Jason’s life? 

What version of the story did Ruben tell, for the man to look at Jason the way he did? Does he know about the scars? Jason saw the pictures, at the trial. Has this guy ever even seen what Ruben’s hiding underneath his clothes, does he know how damaged Ruben really is?

Jason’s the only one who knows it, because only Jason’s life is the same kind of fucked up. And sooner or later, Ruben’s going to end up just as desperate as Jason, because they share that too: their jobs were the only thing that mattered, in the end. One day Ruben is going to want more than this shabby neighborhood and a shitty teaching job and a boyfriend who owns a fucking corner store, he’s going to want something that matters. Maybe Ruben will try and cling onto this happy little fantasy he’s made up here for as long as he can, but when he wants out - and he _will_ \- when he decides to do what he’s _supposed_ to and stop wasting that brain of his, like hell is he going to reap all the benefit and leave Jason stuck down in the dirt.

Ruben can keep whatever he wants from this place. Jason doesn’t care, it’s not like he wants any of this. He’s just asking for one thing and he’s going to get it.

He needs to get in that fucking building. So he doesn’t know what apartment Ruben lives in, so what? He’ll figure that out later. The only important thing right now: Ruben and the guy who’s been making Jason’s already-miserable life even harder these past few days are in that building.

So he waits again, patient, glad of the dark and the cold: people are in a rush to get home, people don’t want to hang around looking into corners to see if anyone’s lurking there. The world’s got to cut him a break sometime. 

Sure enough, not too long later, it does, in the form of a latina girl in a thick wool beanie with her long dark hair spilling down the back of her warm winter jacket, distractedly fumbling through her bag. She's headed with a purposeful stride down the same back-alley that Ruben disappeared into earlier.

Jason hurries quietly across the street and into the alley behind her. One last chance. Don’t blow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: fuckn jason]


	16. Chapter 16

**Vanessa**

Vanessa’s moving fast off the train and feeling vaguely stupid about how she’s practically running to get to Usnavi’s apartment. It’s not even been a day and she missed them.

Everything is fucked right now. Ruben’s been so jumpy that even the slightest unexpected noise makes him shift into an automatic defense position.Last night she woke up suddenly and couldn’t figure out what disturbed her until she felt Usnavi next to her, shaking with silent sobs with his face hidden in the pillow. Vanessa’s been hovering in a way that’s awful and alien to her. Clinginess isn’t her vibe at all, but she’s been staring at them eagle-eyed when she’s there and checking her messages constantly when she’s not, her heart constantly beating too quick. She’s trying with limited success to fight the feeling that if she lets them out of her sight she’s going to come back to find something else has tried to break one of her boys. None of them know how to fix it yet other than to keep going forward until there’s more options. 

Or not quite everything is fucked: the three of them, that’s back on track. They feel like a team again, which makes it all slightly easier.

They agreed that Ruben should have someone with him as often as possible. Usnavi and Vanessa can be with him at night. He’s got coworkers who commute most of the same train route back. Benny and Sonny after being told the current situation - minus the part about Usnavi’s stupid-ass impulsive meeting and subsequent panic attack - decided of their own accord they’d meet Ruben from the station until the heat dies down.

(“You don’t have to, Usnavi says he can—“

“Ruben, the whole point of a bodyguard is that they’re bigger than you,” Benny had said, exasperated. “Would  _you_  be intimidated by Usnavi’s skinny ass?And if I’m standing next to you and Sonny then that makes me look even taller and I like that. Feels powerful.”

“Thanks,” said Ruben. “I think. Okay, but Sonny, I really don’t know if you should—

“Tough shit, Marcado,”Sonny said, amiably.

Usnavi raised one eyebrow, skeptical. “So Benny’s bringin’ the height and the biceps, what’s your function if shit goes down, short stuff?”

“Vicious, sarcastic mockery?” Sonny suggested.

“Aw, that’s my boy,” said Vanessa, ruffling his hair proudly.)

It’s not that much of an inconvenience - Benny’s usually just getting off work himself not too far away from the station at the time Ruben’s train gets in and Sonny says it’s a good excuse to take a break from homework - and it’s sweet of them to help, but Jesus, it must be smothering. Especially for Ruben, who she knows sometimes really needs to be invisible and unwatched. Still, she thinks right now Ruben probably prefers this than being abandoned to his fate. They’re all freaked out right now. It’s less when they’re together.

Coming up to the bodega she’s yearning to see them, she’s fumbling in her bag - can’t find her goddamn keys, probably left them this morning, she wasn’t in the most organised headspace because when is she ever in the mornings - as she heads down to the back entrance of Usnavi’s building.

Even though Vanessa’s distracted, she’s a girl who’s spent her whole life living in a big city: the unconscious part of her that’s always vigilant in dark and isolated spaces calls out a warning. She’s not alone in this alleyway.

A casual glance over her shoulder and she has to fight hard to stay expressionless. White dude, tall, blue coat, dios fuckin’ mío, it’s him. He’s found them.

Her immediate, inane reaction is  _thank god, it’s not someone following_ ** _me_** _._

No, she thinks, but he  _is_  here for Ruben, who is inside with no idea who’s waiting for him down here. Usnavi’s up there too, and Jason knows his face now. Fuck,  _fuck_! What is she meant to  _do_?

Jason clears his throat and as calmly as possible Vanessa turns around to acknowledge a man she’s imagined meeting a thousand times, but always in a very different scenario to this - armed, maybe, and with Usnavi by her side ready to kick ass, Ruben somewhere safe and far away. She didn’t expect that she’d feel threatened just by his presence, she didn’t expect that she’d feel scared. She thought she hated him too much to be afraid of him, and from how Ruben described him she couldn’t imagine thinking of him as anything other than weakly pathetic.

What an unfair thing for her to think, she realises. Ruben’s been so unsettled by Jason’s presence for a reason, and it's not just because of who he shares a face with. He’s been stalking Ruben, he definitely spooked the hell out of Usnavi when he grabbed him. Maybe he’s not a torturer, but he’s bigger than her and stronger than the guys and unquestionably dangerous.

“Hey, I, uh, I seem to have forgotten my key. Would you be able to let me into the building?” he asks. A smile that’s probably supposed to be charming, that’s probably got him a thousand things he thinks he’s entitled to before. Vanessa’s pretty sure she wouldn’t be taken in by it even if she didn’t know who he was. She knows a real charming smile: Usnavi’s eyebrows dancing upwards happily, the way Ruben’s nose scrunches when he laughs.

What did he look like when he was Ian, she wonders? Was there the exact same bland smile, or was there something more deliberately evil in it? Ruben’s given enough details for her to know Ian enjoyed what he did to Ruben. Did it show lighting up his eyes? There’s nothing behind Jason’s eyes at all that she can read.

Slowly wandering a dubious gaze across Jason’s face, the quality of his clothing against the scuffed edges of the alleyway, Vanessa drawls “ _You_  live in this building?”

He seems to realize how out of place he is on this street. “I…know someone who lives here. I’m visiting.”

“Riiight,” she says. “Well, sorry, dude. Same problem.”

Suddenly Vanessa can see how Usnavi got himself into the situation he did the other day: it’s so hard to think clear. She doesn’t know what to do and her hands are tingling with unrealistic vengeances. She wants to hit him until there’s not enough of him left to hit. She wants to end him right here then spit on the pieces. Show him what it’s really like to be destroyed. He wouldn’t be tough enough to bring himself back, not like Ruben did.

Fury and bravado don’t hide the truth: Vanessa knows her own strength and what fights she’d never win. She knows her own survival. She knows that if she’s a reckless idiot and gets herself killed by this awful living piece of Ruben’s past out back of Usnavi’s store, and with them both just upstairs, neither of them will ever forgive themselves.

That’s definitely the worst choice, but she can’t figure out the best choice because she can’t hear anything over all her instincts screaming that she just needs to not be standing here with a man like this, she needs to get away from him now. What choice does she have?

She presses the intercom, hates herself a little for not being able to figure out a way to deal with it on her own.

“Hello?”

It’s Ruben, she knows from the greeting. Usnavi always answers with an enthusiastic “yo!”. Her heart is pounding, but it's only one word and the tinny speaker distorts his voice enough that Jason doesn’t seem to have recognised him.

“Usnavi, hola, necesito que vengas aquí,” she says, emphasising Usnavi’s name as much as she dares. Jason doesn’t seem the sort to speak Spanish, but she’s not gonna risk anything more obvious. Please let Ruben get it. Usnavi’s not safe down here either, but better him than Ruben, and better than Jason being in the building.

A long pause. “Si. Un momento.”

Oh, thank god, for once, for Ruben’s paranoia.

***

**Ruben**

It takes one strained sentence from Vanessa, “Usnavi, hola, necesito que vengas aquí”, and Ruben's heart is sinking quicksand. Usnavi comes out of the bathroom and Ruben stops him short with a frantic wave as he says “si. Un momento,” and cuts off the intercom.

“Something up?” Usnavi asks, eyeing him worriedly.

Ruben bends to grab his shoes. “Vanessa,” he answers. “She sounded weird. Called me your name, said she needed you to go downstairs.”

“You think it’s him, don’t you?” asks Usnavi. “Shit.  _Shit_.”

Ruben ties off his laces and shrugs, standing straight again. “It might be nothing, but—“

But when has it ever been nothing?

“Better to be safe,” Usnavi agrees, already shoving his own feet into his sneakers. He’s in just his tank top, and Jason's fingerprints fading faintly yellow flash as his bare arms move. Ruben’s stomach hurts.

“Usnavi…” Ruben begins.

“No,” says Usnavi.

“If he’s down there—“

“Don’t ask me to stay up here and leave you both with him,” says Usnavi, fiery-eyed. “Don’t you  _dare_  ask me that. You wouldn’t wait behind, if it were the other way round. ”

“ _Usnavi._ “

“Vanessa,” Usnavi says, and maybe it’s just an attempt to derail but she  _is_  down there all by herself, so that’s all it takes for the conversation to end. Usnavi grabs both Ruben’s hands, squeezes them tightly for the briefest of seconds before letting go, and then they’re gone.

***

**Vanessa**

“So…you live here, or just visiting?”

Jason keeps making weak attempts at smalltalk while Vanessa stares over his shoulder, mutely running a movie-credits scroll of words through her head of all the things she’s heard about him, or about his other half. It’d be more sensible to play nice, but even if she’s usually the best liar of the three of them that’s not saying much, and she doesn’t think there’s anything she could trust herself to say without it turning into a brawl.

The door behind her slams open.

Usnavi and Ruben - of course both of them, should’ve expected that - push through at the same time, knocking elbows in their rush to get to Vanessa. Ruben immediately pulls her away from Jason and hustles her behind him: Usnavi moves so that his left arm is pressed against Ruben’s right, the two of them a barrier between Vanessa and Jason.

She breathes out slow relief: she doesn’t want him near them but oh, god, how much safer does she feel just knowing they’re here? Childish optimism, but surely they’re untouchable all three of them together.

“Hello, Ruben,” says Jason, like he was expecting this. Ruben doesn’t answer. Jason’s eyes sweep over to Usnavi, tension twitching across his jaw. “And you again.”

“Me again,” says Usnavi, grimly. “Vanessa, esperar adentro.”

“Not a chance,” she says. Usnavi shoots her an apologetic grimace like  _well, I had to try, didn’t I?_  and doesn’t argue the point further. He knows he wouldn’t win that one.

“Did he do anything?” Ruben asks her, tight-voiced, not turning away from Jason.

“I’d like to see him try,” she says, even though this whole time she’s been quietly worrying about what he might do if he found out she was with Ruben. But it works: Ruben and Usnavi’s shoulders both relax minutely.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Ruben, I’m not going to hurt anyone,” says Jason, impatiently.

Ruben’s fists clench. He gives an awful, bitter laugh. “No?” he says. “Not gonna grab someone hard enough to leave bruises, maybe?”

Usnavi waves, sarcastic.

Jason shifts. “That…was an accident. If he hadn’t tried to—I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“No,” Ruben sighs. “You never do, do you?”

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Ruben.”

“Then why  _are_  you here, Jason?” Ruben asks. He doesn’t sound afraid, though she knows he must be. Resigned and sad, yeah, but he’s so brave, he’s so fucking brave, steady as the ground underneath them.

“I’m here to apologise.”

“What,” they all say in disbelieving unison.

“Puto mentiroso,” Usnavi mutters.

“Hell of a long way to come just to say two words,” says Vanessa. “Couldn’t have, oh, I dunno, texted it? We know you know how to.”

“Can we talk about this inside? ” Jason asks, directly to Ruben, ignoring Vanessa and Usnavi completely. He gives an exaggerated shiver, a sheepish smile. “It’s kind of cold.”

“No,” says Ruben.

“ _Ruben._ “ Jason says sharply, and Vanessa bites her tongue to keep herself from shouting  _stop saying his name!_ Ruben’s never minded the American pronunciation, it’s how he introduces himself when he’s speaking English: he says that  _Ruben_  and  _Rubén_ are both his in the same amount. Vanessa and Usnavi call him something in between: American emphasis, Spanish R. But Jason says it all wrong even so, flat R against the admonishing barbed-wire tone, taking the rolling softness out of the two syllables and making it an insult, or the way a parent talks to a misbehaving toddler. Like turning Ruben into whatever Jason wants him to be right along with the sound of his name.

Jason exhales, visibly schools his face into a pleading expression. “Please,” he says, sickeningly sweet. “Please, I’m just asking for one hour, that’s all.”

_How the fuck was Ruben ever dumb enough to keep falling for this?_ Vanessa thinks, immediately followed by a wave of guilt. He wasn’t dumb. He was too clever for his own good, he was lonely, he thought this is all he was worth. Oh, Ruben.

_Don’t listen to him,_  she begs silently.  _Not again._ Usnavi’s right, Jason’s lying, and he’s not even good at it. Or he genuinely believes it’ll be so easy to get his way that he doesn’t need to try any harder than this. If Ruben gives Jason an inch then he’s gonna end up dragged along for miles and they can’t let that happen. It doesn’t matter if Jason’s not a killer: there’s more than one way for their Ruben to be lost, and he’s come too far, he’s too important for it to happen again.

But it’s not for Vanessa or Usnavi to decide. Golden rule of their relationship: Ruben _always_ gets to make his own choices now.

Vanessa wants to get closer, she wants to grip Ruben’s shoulder and remind him that they’ll be with him no matter what decision he makes. But he’s so tightly coiled that she’s worried he’d fracture underneath it and she won’t give Jason the satisfaction of seeing Ruben flinch. She presses her palm to the small of Usnavi’s back instead. He leans into it. He’s shivering in the cold without a jacket.

“If I agree to hear you out—“ Ruben says slowly. Vanessa can feel Usnavi go still: without looking, Ruben lays a placating hand on his wrist. “If I agree, will you leave us alone? You’ll say your piece and then go back to Philadelphia?”

“Of course,” says Jason, meekly.

“Fine,” says Ruben. “Fine. You have thirty minutes. Uh…”

He wavers, looking at Usnavi, hesitant to invite Jason up to his apartment without asking.

“We can use the store,” says Usnavi, sounding deeply unhappy about it.

“Great,” says Jason. “Let’s go.”

Nothing even close to a  _thank you_ ,  _Ruben,_  Vanessa notes. Ruben strides ahead of them leading the way to the bodega. Jason hangs back. Ruben throws a questioning glance over his shoulder.

“Uh, are they—“ he points at Usnavi and Vanessa. “I kind of thought we could talk in private.”

Even in the dark Vanessa can see Ruben go pale.

“Absolutely not,” she says. One thing she won’t negotiate: she’d do anything for Ruben, except for let him go off alone with Jason.

Thankfully, Ruben nods in agreement. “All of us or none of us,” he confirms, and Jason gives an aggrieved sigh before following.

It’s not the same as kicking him out on his ass, and Vanessa can’t help the disappointed dread settling deep in her lungs. But Ruben’s profile as they pass under a streetlight is reassuring: the sharpness of his eyes, the determined set of his brow. She’s trusted Ruben with the other most important things in her life, including Usnavi, and he’s never let them down. She’ll have to trust Ruben with Ruben, too.

***

**Ruben**

He’s lost whole days before just from chance glimpses of this face in photos, but now Jason’s actually standing in front of him Ruben’s staying in one piece. Probably another false calm, but there’s stark white fluorescent lights shining above Jason’s head, the smell of cleaning products and coffee in the air, a pale mimicry of the hospital. Like flashbacks he resets to old pathways under sense recollection, reboot on backup files to a time when his fear was still something small enough to package up for later, shaking in the darkness of his apartment after the basement or the club and pulling himself together for another double shift in the lab. He never once fell apart at work.

“So,” says Jason, awkwardly. “How have you been?”

Vanessa gives a derisive snort. She and Usnavi are standing to one side a few steps away from where Jason and Ruben are face-to-face, watching attentive like ringside spectators at a boxing match. Their presence helps too, reminds him that old habits aside, Ruben’s different now, he can make different choices.

“Do you care?” Ruben asks in return. Once, he’d have fallen for anything close to concern, but — well, no, that’s not strictly true, actually. He always knew, but he let himself believe it in spite of that. He aches for his past self, that somehow  _this_  seemed like the best he could hope for.

“I’m just trying to…I’ve thought about you a lot. Wondered if you were okay. Nobody knew where you went, you know?”

“And somehow you managed to find me anyway.”

He doesn’t ask how. Doesn’t want to know. What would be worse: Jason having known for weeks, maybe months, that Ruben’s living in the barrio? That makes him feel nauseous, but imagining that Jason did follow Usnavi home after all (for four  _hours_ ) is terrifying. All options are bad.

“I haven’t seen you since the trial,” says Jason. “I wanted— the, the Jamaica thing, all of that, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ruben. It should never have happened.

…Wait, is that all? What the fuck?! It’s the weakest thing Ruben’s ever heard.

“How very fucking political,” says Ruben. “Is that seriously what you’ve been harassing me non-stop to say,  _it shouldn’t have happened_? You shouldn’t have  _done_  it.”

“Ian—“

“We’re not talking about Ian,” says Ruben. “This is supposed to be your apology. Was that it?”

“Uh,” says Jason. “I guess? I’m sorry that you got hurt. I’m sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry you don’t have your job any more.”

Usnavi whistles piercingly, then raises one hand like a reporter at a press conference when they both look his way. “Yo, hey, Usnavi here, we’ve met before, quick question: so are you really expectin’ anyone in this room to believe that you came all this way just to not actually apologise for a thing that you’re not even taking any responsibility for? Because I definitely ain’t buying what you’re selling, dude.”

Vanessa points at Usnavi with an eyebrows-raised expression like _see,_   _this guy gets it._  Ruben’s surprised at the short, sharp laugh that bursts out of him.

Jason stares at them then clearly decides that they don’t fit into whatever strategy he’s got pre-planned, brushes them off without saying a word.

“He’s right,” says Ruben. “What about the rest of it?”

Jason shrugs helplessly in obvious non-comprehension, “I don’t—what do you want me to say, Ruben? I’m  _sorry_. What else am I supposed to do for you to forgive me?  
  
“Christ,” Ruben mutters. “How about you get your head out of your…no, you know what? Screw this. I’m not gonna hold your hand and lead you down the path to being not a total asshole, I’ve got better shit to do. Tell me why you’re really here, Jason.”

Jason looks at him, grinding his teeth, before reluctantly admitting “I need your help.”

Callback again to Independence Memorial, there’s a chill down Ruben’s spine and distantly: the door to his lab closing, Jason crowding him with urgent eyes, telling him he has to help, it’s the only way, there’s no other choice.

“Is it him?” Ruben asks, tries not to let the fear into his voice, but he can’t stop himself backing away from Jason like he might switch any minute. “I swear to god if you’ve brought Ian to my fucking doorstep…“

“I haven’t,” Jason says quickly. “I wouldn’t. No sign of him, not since the surgery.”

“Okay,” says Ruben. Small blessings. “The answer’s still n—“

“Nowhere will hire me,” Jason cuts him off. “Because of what happened to you. I need your help to become a neurosurgeon again.”

Ruben stares at him. Is he fucking serious?

“Are you fucking  _serious_ ,” Vanessa says.

“After they found you and the trial and everything, I spent months in that hospital, wondering whether you were okay, what you might’ve been doing. It nearly drove me insane.”

Ruben doesn’t say anything. He’s not about to tell Jason what he was doing at that time: waking up every night with his voice ragged from yelling to the sound of one of his family members banging on his locked door, begging him to open it and let them in so they can help him. Therapy, three times a week. His mom putting a lock on the medicine cabinet after he admitted he was a suicide risk. Learning how to go outside alone again, learning slowly not to flinch at shadows, patching himself back together one slow and painful thread at a time. It was so hard, it was hard every second of the day until he slowly started getting minutes, days, now sometimes even weeks when things aren’t so difficult. Recovery wasn’t fun - and still isn’t, because he’s not stopped being in recovery, maybe never will - but it’s Ruben’s. Jason doesn’t get any of it. Jason doesn’t get to profit off what Ruben’s been striving endlessly towards.

“And now…” says Jason, shaking his head sadly. “Now I’m trying to move on, to move forward, but every time I get an interview with a hospital they won’t call me back, or the position suddenly gets filled, and I know it’s because of what happened. I don’t have my job, I can’t see my kid, all I can do all day is sit at home and think about it, about what he did, how much he’s ruined for both of us.”

“My heart bleeds,” says Vanessa, poisonous.

“I can’t stand it. I need something, _anything_. I need my job back.”

“Have you tried applying like…at Target?” Usnavi suggests, with a sardonic quirk of his brows. “Or anywhere that isn’t a big important hospital job? Volunteering, maybe, do some damage control on that karma.”

Jason still refuses to even acknowledge the other two are there, so he doesn’t answer, but of course he hasn’t. Ruben spent almost two months in Jamaica as a cleaner just to earn enough to stay alive, scrubbing down a hotel every night and ignoring the way the constant movement made the still-healing wounds on his body sting and sometimes reopen, but Jason wouldn’t deign to work minimum wage or unskilled while he still had savings in the bank. Not Dr Jason Cole, chief of neurosurgery.

Ruben’s hung up on something else, though. “Are you…wait, are you saying that you think we’re in the same boat? That both of us are just Ian’s victims here?”

“Obviously I’m not saying it’s the  _same_  as—“ Jason awkwardly indicates Ruben’s upper body: Ruben fights the urge to fold his arms over his chest and hide behind them, settles for subtly pulling his sleeves further down his hands.“But we both understand what it feels like, don’t we? Him taking everything from us?”

“And you think I can help you how? I don’t work in a hospital any more.”  
  
“You said you’re making Blackout again, says Jason. “That means you must know people, you must have connections, some kind of influence. And the whole reason I’m not getting work is because they think I’m the one that did it, so if you put me in touch with the right people, tell them that Ian was the one in Jamaica instead of me…it’s my only option. All I had was my job, Ruben. You understood, when I told you that before. And I can help you, I’ll do whatever I can, I’ll sign the forms and do however many testimonials you need. We can both get back what’s ours.”

Holy shit, he’s unbelievable. Has he always been this bad at this? It’s not even good manipulation, how did Ruben ever find him anything other than utterly repulsive?

“You…want me to go on public record saying I forgive you so that you don’t have to deal with the consequences any more? And you think this is something I’d actually do?”

“You’re the only one who can do it, Ruben. Please, I need you.”

“What about what _I_ need, Jason? Because what I need is to live my fucking life in peace, to not have you stalking me or my par— my friends, and hey, if you wanna throw in the one single thing I ever asked you for so that I can do my—”

“I’ll give you whatever information you want, you can even take all the money, I—”

“I wasn’t done talking!” Ruben snaps. He forgot how impossible it always was to even get to the end of a goddamn sentence when Jason's around. “I don’t get to live without the consequences, I’m stuck with them forever. And you come here, you pitch me my own research as a bargaining chip like you’re actually doing my some kind of fucking favor and you tell me you think you deserve to be a neurosurgeon again?”

“I was good at it,” says Jason. “I need this, and the patients need me, and I don’t know what else I can do. This is all I can do, Ruben, you understand that. I know you do. Wasn’t it the same for you, with the lab?”

“You might’ve been good at surgery but people nearly died because of the shit you pulled, Jason. And I helped you with it too many times. Neither of us are fit to work with patients, we’ve proven that much. And after everything you’ve done trying to get me involved in this delusional fucking plan of yours, I’m definitely not gonna—”

“So, what,” says Jason, and he’s losing the patiently condescending tone. “You’re gonna work at community college forever?” Ruben’s stomach drops - how does Jason know about the college? “You’re going to live in a tiny apartment over a corner store forever? You’re practically a genius, Ruben, you can't waste that brain of yours."

“I  _am_  a genius by any standard definition of the term, thanks, and I’m happy where I am,” retorts Ruben. “I’m not actually just a walking chemistry textb—”

“You could be brilliant. We could—”

“Stop  _interrupting_  me!” Ruben shouts, giving up on any pretence of calm. Honestly, fuck this. Fuck him. Ruben wasn’t ever supposed to have to deal with one of these conversations again, he was supposed to be done with this. “Are you expecting me to be your pet scientist again?Keep me in the cage and let me do my own thing as long as it doesn’t upset your plans, as long as I’m always there as soon as you need something else from me?”

“I’m not asking to work  _with_  you if that’s not what you want,” says Jason. “That’s understandable. I’m just asking for a mutually beneficial arrangement. We both need this.”

(“It’s mutually beneficial,” Jason had said, back at the very beginning before Ruben even knew the real reason why Jason was asking for help on an extremely secret and incredibly intriguing project. “I get my insomnia treatment, and you get some serious money - and of course my eternal gratitude - if you can figure out how to do this.”

“Only if we don’t get caught,” Ruben replied, his mind already pulling out pages of information to start working with, his heart already racing at the way Jason smiled at him. “I’m risking a lot here. Those had better be some seriously substantial benefits.”

“It’ll be life-changing,” Jason promised.)

How many times has Ruben’s life been turned upside down since then? Jason, Ian, that awful last month of IMH, Jamaica, coming home again.

And then the Heights and Usnavi and Vanessa. Ruben wouldn't have come here otherwise, couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than here now, but he’s not giving Jason credit for that. This wasn’t part of their deal. Jason could never have offered Ruben what he has now.

“I’m getting Blackout without you,” Ruben says. “One way or another. Maybe it’ll take longer to get there, but I don’t need you to get what I’ve earned.”

“We did five years of work on it,” says Jason. "You know that’s irreplaceable.”

“Oh my fucking god, the only thing stopping me from getting my research is  _you_! Ian’s not the one refusing to sign the damn consent form! Is this your idea of doing me a favor? Where do you think I’d be right now without your ‘help’? IMH was supposed to be my opportunity. You were supposed to be my friend.”

“I was your friend,” Jason insists. “I know things got fucked up at the end but we were friends before that.”

“Bull _shit_ ,” says Ruben. “When’s my birthday, Jason?

Jason looks thrown. “Well, I mean, I don’t—“

“I know yours. It’s February 8th. What's my middle name?”

“I—“

“Yours is David. Here, I’ll make it easy for you, tell me  _one thing_ you know about me that’s not to do with my work. Anything at all.”

“Ruben, this is a waste of time—“

It still hurts, the fulfilment of sub-zero low expectations. It’s not quite that Ruben cares but there was a Ruben who would have cared once, the sting of dismissal just another dormant habit from someone long dead. He’s better than this now. He deserves better than this, he  _has_ better than this.

“Yeah,” Ruben says. “You’re right, this is a waste of time. Go atone on your own clock, or just sit in your apartment till you fucking rot for all I care, but don’t come here asking for my help acting like I should be grateful for it, and definitely don’t expect my absolution just so you can play chief of surgery again and sleep easy pretending you’re making the world a better place.”

Jason makes a loud, angry sound. “For fuck’s sake, Ruben, be realistic! You need this! How long’s community college really going to be enough for you? How long is this place, or, or that guy going to be enough for you?”

He indicates Usnavi, who’s been watching stone-faced and silent and who now looks offended. “Uh, say what?”

“Always,” says Ruben, icily. Shit. Jason knows exactly what his relationship with Usnavi is. At least Vanessa’s safe, or as safe as it’s possible to be, sitting there glaring at Jason. “We’re finished here.”

“So you…won’t help me?” Jason says, slowly, like he’s trying to translate from another language.

“No,” says Ruben. “No, I’m done with helping you. Forever.”

Jason’s moving closer fast and Ruben braces: is it gonna be one of those calculated fake-friendly gestures that his touch-starved self had always hated and craved in equal measure, a hand lightly on his arm or his chest with another endless torrent of pleas, or is Jason just literally gonna try and beat compliance into him?

Neither, apparently: Vanessa muscles in between them, both hands slamming hard on Jason’s chest stopping him in his tracks. She’s not strong enough to push him back, but she seems to have surprised him into stillness.

“He said no,” says Vanessa, her voice a crack of thunder.

Vanessa’s something else when she’s angry, in a captivatingly frightening way, but Jason’s angry too and it sits on his face in a way that’s pure Ian. Ruben’s finding it hard to breathe. Jason looks desperate. He looks furious.

He pushes Vanessa aside, hard enough that she stumbles and catches her arm on the edge of a shelf with a pained hiss. Both Ruben and Usnavi give wordless, outraged shouts, but as Ruben moves to keep Jason away from Vanessa - he’s not  _allowed_  to touch her, not at all and especially not like that - Jason grabs him by the shoulders tightly and Ruben falls out of time.

It’s happening again. Oh god, he should have known. What could any of them really do against Ian—Jason, no, it’s Jason, but they’ve never been all that different, have they? _No_  was always just the harder way to say  _yes_ and Jason might not be able to take forgiveness from Ruben unconsenting but he can take this, the safety of Vanessa stood between them, the warm comfort of Usnavi’s bodega.

He should have  _known_. He was never supposed to come back to America. They’re so similar, that inescapable grip like the way Ian steered him into the darkness of the warehouse. Will everything else be the same, too? The red plastic countertop where he’s made a spot for himself under his bare skin instead of metal, another place bloodstained under their hands. Will it be a knife again? Ian while he worked whispered promises, so many other things he would do if Ruben broke their deal, the hundreds of ways a body and a brain can be violated. Will Jason be that creative in his cruelty?

_Run, before it’s too late_ , he tells himself, but nothing happens, just like before.

Then—

Then time stutters back at the sound of more yelling and Jason’s hands aren’t on him any more.

***

**Usnavi**

Usnavi listens to the conversation meander in its endless circle and itches to get involved. Vanessa bristling next to him obviously feels the same: he can almost feel the rage crackling off her. Something holds them both back, watching while Ruben never once relents under Jason’s insistence.

This must be how it was when they worked together. Ruben’s told them how sometimes he was only helping Jason because he ran out of ways to say he didn’t want to. He’s standing his ground now, but if the conversation’s making Usnavi this agitated to watch, imagine how Ruben must feel. 

It’s not fair, it’s not right. Ruben’s worked so hard and Jason just wants his old job handed to him by someone who’s already given him more than anyone should ever have to give.

Usnavi clenches his teeth, tries to map out the shape of his anger to calm it before he does something impulsive and stupid again, but there’s too much that he doesn’t understand here. Cruelty is so far beyond his comprehension.

Then Jason gets too close, and Vanessa shoots forward to intervene, and impulsive doesn’t matter any more: they’re both in danger, and Usnavi only knows that he has to do  _something_. Jason shoves Vanessa, grabs Ruben. Ruben’s face goes instantly, distressingly blank, like he’s switched himself off so that he doesn’t have to watch what Jason might do to him.

All of the fury Usnavi’s been building up like electric charge for almost a year since that first time Ruben told him about Jamaica turns to lightning. Usnavi’s not gonna lose anyone else, Usnavi’s not gonna let  _anyone_  hurt them. No more scars. He’s flinging himself across the gap between them before he knows he’s doing it and knocking Jason to the side.

“¡No!” he can hear himself shouting as if from a distance, throwing sloppy punches anywhere he can reach. “¡No lo toques, no permitiré que lo lastimes!”

Jason, the surprise of Usnavi’s initial jump wearing off, catches Usnavi with a fist against his cheek, flings him staggering to one side.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s strong.

“Stay out of this,” Jason growls. “You have no idea what — you just stay out of this.” And he turns back towards Ruben like he’s expecting Usnavi to timidly obey.

A quick look shows Ruben’s still standing frozen, and Vanessa’s poised with a frustrated look, arms half-raised into fists like she wants to get involved but knows deep down that it’s a bad idea, and so Usnavi comes back for more, grabbing Jason by the back of the shirt and putting a foot to the back of one knee to try and unbalance him. It doesn’t work, but he’s coming for Usnavi again now, away from Ruben, away from Vanessa. That’s all that matters.

Usnavi’s been in fights before, though not for a long, long time. He was a tiny, underweight kid, easy-going, almost impossible to agitate, so when it did happen he really goddamn meant it. Only when it was necessary. Big tough dudes shoving around someone smaller and weaker, boys who stood and towered over girls who clearly didn’t want their attention, Usnavi fights Jason like he’d fight any of them: he kicks and he scratches and when Jason’s arm comes up to try and push him away, he bites it hard. There’s no rules for fair play or worries about how cool your moves look when you’re small and scrappy and have no choice but to win and Usnavi can’t stop. He’s crying, hysterical, and he can’t stop that either.

He’s been in fights but Usnavi has never actually wanted to hurt anyone before. Nobody else has ever hurt someone Usnavi cares about so much.

Protectiveness can only compensate so far for the fact he’s totally outmatched: an elbow to the stomach knocks the air out of him, and Jason takes his chance to lift Usnavi and pin him to the wall by his neck, one hand squeezing tight around his throat. It’s like nothing Usnavi’s ever felt before, suffocating like the panic attack the other day but a thousand times worse. He scrabbles uselessly with his feet off the ground trying to find a foothold and ease the pressure. 

Vanessa's so close by, shouting Usnavi’s name from right by Jason’s side, demanding that Jason put him down - he wants to tell her  _stay away,_   _take Ruben and get out of here!,_  but he can’t breathe, never mind speak. Gray static buzzes across his sight.

Jason gives an angry growl in the back of his throat and jerks, then throws Usnavi to the floor. Usnavi lands heavy and painful, coughing harshly. When his vision comes back he can see above him Vanessa’s rubbing a thumb across a bloodied cut on her lip: she must’ve been fighting to get Jason off him. And as Jason advances on Usnavi with a snarl, Vanessa stands defensively over him.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” she spits, her voice wobbly but wrathful.

Usnavi struggles to his feet, still winded, but before anything goes down Ruben shouts “Jason, stop!”

Jason pauses, frowns around like he’s only just realized where he is. Ruben comes to stand in front of Usnavi and Vanessa, and he says, “leave them  _alone_.”

“Ruben,” Jason says, dropping right back to that whining, begging tone. “You don’t understand, I need —“

“I don’t care,” says Ruben. “Do you honestly think that you could ever change my mind now?Do you think I’m ever gonna help you again? You really don’t know me at all, Jason. I’ll put up with a lot of shit when it’s just me in the firing line but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep them safe.  _Nothing_. And you  _hurt_  them.”

Usnavi’s been scared for Ruben a million times but he’s never seen Ruben  _be_  scary before. He sounds like he could level a skyscraper to dust just by talking to it.

“Shit,” Jason says, vehemently. “ _Shit._ Ruben, please, I’m sor-“

“Don’t, says Ruben, and now he just sounds exhausted. “Don’t say it. It’s meaningless.”

This needs to end. Usnavi takes Ruben’s hand, palms diagonal to one another like how children hold hands. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Vanessa mirror the movement on Ruben’s other side. Ruben’s grip stays slack for a second but then he twitches before moving to lace their fingers together properly.

“Get the hell out of my store,” Usnavi orders, and he doesn’t recognise his own voice, hoarse from choking and so, so angry. He feels like he could destroy whole buildings too. “This is over. You don’t get to fuck around with him now. He’s not alone any more.”

“He’s not ever going to be alone again,” Vanessa says.

Ruben squeezes their hands and takes a shattered-sounding breath. “If you ever come near any of us again, I’ll kill you,” he says, looking downward at the floor. Nothing about it sounds like a lie. “Go fuck yourself, Jason.”

Jason looks them over, facing him together pressed shoulder to shoulder to shoulder and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something before deflating, defeated. He doesn’t say a word or look at any of them as he storms out, the bell ringing incongruously cheerful when he rips the door open and finally leaves them in peace. Vanessa hurries after him to stand in the doorway and make sure he’s gone for real.

“Usnavi, are you okay?” Ruben asks quietly. Usnavi just nods, because it hurt like hell when he spoke a moment ago and anyway he isn’t okay at all because how could he be, but he doesn’t need anyone calling him out on the lie right now.

“He’s gone,” Vanessa says, coming back over to them. “Ruben?”

Ruben says nothing. His hands start shaking, tremors working all the way up his arms till his whole body is shuddering. Usnavi thinks he might have been keeping still by sheer force of will until now.

“…Ruben?” he asks, tentatively. Where are they supposed to go from here?

Ruben gives a choked sob, then another, and then letting go of Usnavi he sinks to the floor, clutches his hair in his hands and lets out a loud, wrenching wail. It’s an agonising burn right through Usnavi’s heart to hear it.

They both drop to the ground next to him and Vanessa somehow manages to shift Ruben onto her lap, cradling him against her and rocking them both back and forth. “I know, honey, I know, you’re safe now,” she keeps saying, tears pouring down her face. Usnavi sits beside them, hugs his own knees tight to his chest, feeling terrified and breakable.

Ruben clings to Vanessa, his face hidden against her shoulder, howling his grief into her skin.


	17. Chapter 17

 

**Vanessa**

It didn't seem possible that there'd be anything more difficult to listen to than Ruben screaming in his sleep, but he’s crying so loud and it’s worse, somehow, because this isn’t from a memory, this is such a present heartbreak. Bawling, that’s the only word for it, with his whole body the unrestrained way that infants do, the kind that in its tone and totality pierces right through conscious thought processes straight to whatever part of human instinct makes a person feel a pain that isn’t their own and compels them to try and fix it.

“He’s gone,” Vanessa says, “you’re safe, we got you” and then it changes to “we’re safe, we’re safe” and she’s not sure any more if she’s talking to Ruben or reassuring herself.

Ruben is a crumpled, heavy weight in her lap and her legs are starting to protest but she wouldn’t make him move right now, not if the building was burning down around them. He hasn’t lifted his face from her shoulder once. Suddenly, overwhelmingly she needs to see his eyes, but she lets him stay hidden till the worst of the crying subsides to stuttered breaths.

“Ruben, babe, can you look at me? Whenever you’re ready to,” she asks.

It’s another five minutes till Ruben raises his head, squints at her as if he's coming out of a pitch-dark room. He taps his mouth, his sign to mean he can’t talk right now -  _used up all my words,_ that’s what he calls it.

“I’m not surprised,” Vanessa says. “Man, you really gave that bastard a piece of your mind.”

He doesn’t smile but his eyes go softer.

“You were amazing,” says Usnavi. It comes out rattly like he’s talking through gravel and he whimpers, tiny and pained.

“Jesus, Usnavi!” exclaims Vanessa, horrified. “You sound like  _shit_.”

“Hurts,” Usnavi says, squeezing his arms tighter around his knees. In just his tank top without one of his big bright shirts he looks like an unfinished drawing, waiting for the rest of him to be colored in.

“Oh, querido,” she says guiltily. Everything that happened before had been pushed out of her mind the second Ruben started to fall apart, and Vanessa had barely even noticed Usnavi sitting at their side. Ruben fumbles in his pocket, gets his phone and frantically types a concerned note, forgetting all about his own tears now Usnavi might need some comfort.

“I’ll be fine,” Usnavi says in a raspy whisper, after Ruben shoves the phone in his direction. “Just sore. Wasn’t that bad, didn’t pass out or anything.”

Ruben shakes his head, grabs his phone back and types furiously again. Usnavi’s already drained face goes whiter as he reads it. Vanessa takes the phone, and puts a hand over her mouth to stop from making a distressed noise: _serious effects of strangulation can be delayed and w/o treatment can be fatal even if victim survives initial assault._

It had happened right in front of her, but putting the word to it makes it an awful reality outside the heat of the fight: Jason had tried to  _strangle_  Usnavi, held him up so that his feet kicked uselessly inches above solid ground and his hands clawed desperately at Jason’s wrist and his eyes went dim and unfocused.

Vanessa doesn’t let herself lose her shit, even though all she wants to do is scream, or head out into the dark to find where Jason went and then fucking obliterate him. She doesn’t let her mind make the connections about why Ruben knows that information in the first place. More pressing matters right now: Ruben took the worst of the conversation, Usnavi took the worst of the fight, so Vanessa’s gonna take the wheel in dealing with aftermath. It’s how they do things, they all look after each other. It’s her turn.

Ruben’s climbed out of her lap to kneel by Usnavi with one hand against his face, the intensity of his stare more than compensating for lack of speech. Usually Usnavi’s a sucker for Ruben’s pleading eyes but there’s some things he’s stupidly stubborn about.

“Can’t afford a doctor, hermoso.”

_They wouldn't let me take them to the hospital,_ she hears in the back of her mind, and clenches her fists tight so her nails dig in. The knuckles of her right hand ache from where she punched Jason while he had Usnavi up against the wall.

“You’re going to the goddamn urgent care centre even if I have to physically drag you down the street to get you there,” she says. “ _Please_ , Usnavi. Me and Ruben can help you pay. It would make us feel better?”

Cheap shot with the last part, but it’s true and she knows it’ll work better than making a plea to Usnavi’s own health, the idiot.

“…Yeah,” Usnavi says. “Yeah, alright.”

He’s so predictable sometimes.

Just as predictable is his insistence that he can go to urgent care by himself. He gives a meaningful look at Ruben, who scowls unhappily back. There’s no way they’re letting Usnavi do that but he does have a point: there’s also no way she’s dragging Ruben outside, or leaving him alone to wait at the apartment. But between the worry that Jason might still be lurking around and the prospect of having to deal with his own insurance paperwork and the fact that he physically can’t argue much right now, Usnavi soon agrees to a compromise and lets Vanessa call Benny.

It’s a relief to finally get out of the bodega once Benny’s come to collect Usnavi, promising to take good care of him, not that Vanessa would've doubted him. Up in Usnavi’s apartment, Ruben heads straight for the kitchen, and Vanessa follows, curious. He starts rummaging around in the freezer and she realises he’s looking for ice.

“Ruben, you should go sit down, I can—“ but he fixes her with a severe look and then pulls out a bag of frozen peas. “Alright, then.”

His movements are fluidly confident as he wraps the bag in a dishtowel and then turns to Usnavi’s drawer of random crap where all the medical stuff is kept and she realises maybe he’s doing this for himself just as much as he is for her. He might not be that kind of doctor, but this is something he knows how to fix: being useful is something Ruben always strives for, and so maybe helping her is something concrete to concentrate on.

Sitting on the couch, Ruben lifts her chin to examine the cut on her mouth. He wipes away the dried blood and dabs on antiseptic cream, somehow impossibly looking even more mournful than he did a minute ago.

“Stop doing that with your face, it’s not that big a deal,” Vanessa says. “Worth it to get a couple of hits in on that motherfucker. You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

Ruben presses the ice to her lip. His eyes wander to the door, then back to her, and he makes a gesture like tipping an invisible cap, then touches a finger to his throat.

“Usnavi will be fine,” she says, her words muffled by the makeshift icepack. Ruben shoots her a doubtful, miserable look. “He  _will_. He’s tough, we all are. We got this.”

She doesn’t sound as certain as she wants to, she doesn’t feel as certain as she wants to. Setting the ice down on the table, Ruben pulls her to his side and rests his chin on top of her head, rocks them both back and forth like she was doing with him earlier. Vanessa lets him comfort her, lets herself believe that the only reason she’s doing so is because it means Ruben will feel helpful, lets herself believe it’s not because she’s crying.

They ice her mouth and her knuckles and wait, and they’re dozing on the couch together by the time Benny brings Usnavi home several hours later. Ruben jumps awake at the sound of keys in the door, and when Benny calls out “it’s only us” he runs immediately into Usnavi’s arms. They stand folded together like origami while Vanessa runs her fingers through Usnavi’s hair and asks Benny what the doctor said.

“It’ll hurt for a while but she wasn’t too worried by the results, all things considered. If his voice doesn’t start to get better in a couple days he should get it checked out again,” says Benny, passing over a folded sheet of paper. “Here, she wrote some stuff down, Ruben will probably know better than me what it all means. She says that you gotta keep a close eye on him for the next few weeks, and if he has trouble breathing or if it starts hurting worse he’s gotta get to the ER right away because that shit is serious.”

He’s trying to sound chill but his mouth tightens with worry.

“You reckon I can invoice that bastard for the expense?” Usnavi muses, forgetting to lower his voice. He winces. “ _Ow_.”

“Buddy, you gotta stop talking,” says Benny disapprovingly, then gives Vanessa a commiserating look. “He’s been doing that the whole time, good luck keeping him quiet.”

Usnavi gives him the middle finger.

“Thanks, Benny,” says Vanessa. “We really appreciate it, you have no idea. I would’ve gone with him but…”

She trails off. They both look at Ruben, who’s still attached barnacle-like to Usnavi.

“If you guys need anything, you know where I am,” Benny says gently. “Anything at all.”

Usnavi leans his head back to give him a grateful look. Benny grips him tightly on the shoulder that Ruben’s head isn’t on and then he hugs Vanessa and leaves them to it.

“How are you holding up?”Vanessa asks Usnavi, and he just shrugs then points at her face. She’d forgotten about the cut; it stings again at the reminder, but it’s not so bad. It’s not the worst that could have happened.

There’s four faint fingerprints like dirt smudges on Usnavi’s neck, the thumb-mark darker on the other side.

“It’s okay,” says Vanessa. “Come on, I think it’s time we put an end to this stupid goddamn day. Ruben, are you alright sharing a bed tonight?”

Ruben finally prises himself off Usnavi and nods. Thank god. She doesn’t wanna let either of them out of her sight.

And she doesn’t, not even when they're in bed: the city lights spill in through the broken blinds in Usnavi’s bedroom and none of them sleep and none of them speak. They all just look at each other, checking the broken places, checking life signs, not even trying to be subtle. Vanessa keeps finding her eyes drawn to at the pale shine of scars on Ruben’s skin, the darkly blossoming bruises on Usnavi’s, not just his neck but his face and all across his arms too. The price of survival, the price of protection. It hurts so much to love two people so strong. She’s so proud of them both.

***

The next day Vanessa runs errands and runs interference. She calls in yet another sick day for Ruben and herself, she heads to the drugstore to pick up some liquid pain meds for Usnavi, who can barely swallow pills at the best of times which this definitely isn’t. Neither of the guys can speak still, so it’s Vanessa who has to call Sonny and explain why he doesn’t need to bother coming in for his evening shift since the store won’t be open today. Sonny understandably freaks despite Vanessa trying her best to make it sound less scary than it was. She has to dissuade him from coming over, which she feels terrible about because there’s no way to say  _we’re just not in the mood to deal with it right now_  without that sounding like  _we’re not in the mood to deal with_ ** _you_**.

It’s Vanessa who has to call Ruben’s mom and explain what happened and that she should be extra careful if she or the girls are going out anywhere, in case Jason comes after them once he gets back to Philadelphia. Ruben’s mom tries very hard  _not_  to freak, but she asks four times for Vanessa to put Ruben on the line despite Vanessa explaining that Ruben’s having one of his non-verbal days and shook his head when she tried to pass the phone over. Then Ruben’s mom starts crying, which Vanessa has no idea what to do with. She feels awful about that too, and much worse about the fact that she’s kind of annoyed at Ruben’s mom because doesn’t Vanessa have enough to deal with already?

After that, she just sends out a text with a heads up to a couple more people, skipping out on most of the details. It’s sort of unavoidable that they’ll have to know. The Rosarios are planning a get-together this weekend since the bodega’s due to close for good, and either calling it off or showing up with Usnavi looking like he fell out of all the trees at once might raise questions. Fuck trying to call all of them individually though, she’s tired of having that conversation.

When she goes into the living room, Ruben and Usnavi are listless and melancholy, and their silence eats away at her now she’s got nothing to keep busy with. She hadn’t realised how quickly she adapted to being a three, how much she relies on the other person when one of them was having a problem. Usnavi’s uplifting chatter and sweet, sincere words when Ruben’s in a bad place, Ruben there to talk out a plan of action with her while making dark, grumbling threats at the universe in general if anything dares make Usnavi unhappy.

**vanessa:  
- ** nina call me when youre free, some major shits been going down and i need to hear your dumb voice tell me its gonna be fine

Her phone rings two minutes later. Ruben and Usnavi both twitch violently at the unexpected sound. Vanessa suppresses the urge to punch a dent in the wall as she leaves the room to take the call.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Nina says immediately when Vanessa picks up. “Tell me what happened. Is it about the job?”  
  
“Don’t I fucking wish,” says Vanessa, as she climbs out onto the fire escape. The December chill levels her simmering thoughts out just a bit. She leans on the railing idly scanning the coats and hats of people passing underneath for any sign of Jason, and explains in broad strokes and a gruffly detached voice about everything that’s been going on.

Nina, just as Vanessa had hoped, doesn’t gasp or get overemotional or go too softly sympathetic, or do any of the things Vanessa doesn’t want to deal with. Apart from hissing an angry  _fuck!_  when Vanessa gets to the part about Usnavi getting choked, she just hears the whole thing out and then asks, calmly, how everyone is coping.

“Ruben’s obviously pretty fucked up about it, but he’s not talking yet,” says Vanessa. “And Usnavi’s voice is all jacked so he can’t talk either. You know how weird it is being in Usnavi’s apartment when it’s quiet?”

“I do know,” says Nina. “It never means anything good. And what about you?”

“I’m being useful,” she says. “Dealing with practical stuff. So that helps. But I’m not being  _comforting_. Sonny and Ruben’s mom were both so messy and I swear, all I wanted to do was hang up the phone and leave them to deal with it for themselves. And I don’t know what to say to the boys. It’s too big. Usnavi’s the one who’s good at talking things better.”

“Well. They don’t need you to be Usnavi,” says Nina. “Just be Vanessa, that’s always been enough for them.”

“They’re so…” she begins, can’t think of how to say what she feels about them right now. “Ugh, can you believe I was worried they wouldn’t manage without me? And now I’m scared  _I’m_  the one that’s not brave enough, not compared to them. They’ve been through so much shit I don't even know where to start.”

“Everyone’s been through something. And this happened to you too, it’s a lot to carry,” Nina says. “Don’t start doubting yourself now. Also, you got punched in the face for them which sounds pretty brave to me.”

“That’s true,” Vanessa concedes, and sighs. “I just want them to be okay.”

“They will be,” says Nina, full of the confidence Vanessa’s not been able to find today. “You’ll be okay too. I’m pretty sure between you the three of you can deal with basically anything at this point.”

God, Vanessa’s glad she’ll be living with Nina. California would be unbearable without the boys otherwise, she thinks. Not that any of them could replace each other. Usnavi is earnest and Ruben is careful and both of those are things she adores from them, but Nina’s full of a steady, brusque affection that pairs so well with Vanessa’s own that she already feels better just from a short conversation.

“Thanks, Rosario,” she says. “I guess you aren’t  _totally_  useless after all.”

“Go to hell,” says Nina, cheerfully. “Love you, V. You can do this.”

“Love you too. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

She cuts off the call and climbs back in the window. Usnavi’s standing in the kitchen dosing himself with liquid Tylenol. It’s low-strength meant for kids because that’s all they had at the drugstore apart from the dissolvable tablets that he hates the taste of, so he has to practically chug half a bottle just to get a single adult dose, but it seems to help and she happens to know he likes that strange medicinal strawberry-sweet flavor. She pauses as she passes him to trail her hand down his back. He shoves the spoon in his mouth and jumps his eyebrows at her in greeting, still so expressive even without words.

Ruben is on the couch exactly where he's been for the past hour, staring at the blank TV with his chin rested on his knees. Vanessa can’t think of what to say. 

It occurs to her that no wonder she’s feeling out of whack: none of them are quite playing their parts like they’re used to. She’s never heard Ruben sound as vengeful and self-assured as yesterday. It must’ve been so strange for him, even if it was also one of the most badass things she's ever seen, about on par with Usnavi throwing himself at Jason in a yelling rage. And Usnavi doesn’t usually do that, get angry or get in fights, doesn’t usually have so many demons to deal with all at once. And Vanessa doesn’t usually have to be the noisy one, or the one dealing with the healing instead of the defending -  though she's had to learn a lot for them even before, but she's always had backup till now. But does it really matter that they’re all navigating on the wrong GPS? They’re always kind of flying blind, they’ve survived so far anyway.

She sits down next to Ruben without touching him and finds herself humming to fill the empty air, anything that comes to mind that’s slow and soft. Ruben doesn’t acknowledge her for a minute, but then he curls up on his side, pillowing his head on her lap just as Usnavi comes back in sipping carefully at a glass of water.

Usnavi sets down his drink, grimacing painfully as he swallows it, and sits crosslegged on the floor with his head resting on Vanessa’s knee, so close to Ruben that she can run her fingers through both of their hair in one continuous motion. She does exactly that, switching from humming to singing proper and she can almost feel some of their tension dissolving under her fingertips.

***

**Ruben**

On the second day after Jason, Ruben manages to mutter  _morning_  in a slow, stalling way like trying to start a car that's been parked unused in cold weather for too long, and manages to eat half a breakfast.  _You’re doing well,_  he tells himself, without any real emotion behind it, but he’s learned it’s important not to break the habit of recognising his own minor successes even if he doesn’t always believe himself.

Most of yesterday he wasted blankly looking at nothing but quickly finds it’s agitating to have no input at all today. Instead he passes time aimlessly messing around on the internet till he somehow ends up on one of those old news articles about the trial.

Jason’s face at the top doesn’t make him reel backwards like it usually would. Maybe he’s all burnt out on that particular trigger for the moment. What’s a picture compared to the real thing? He scrolls past to find his own face instead, post-courtroom, and stays there for God knows how long until Vanessa comes into the living room and sees over his shoulder what he’s looking at. He vaguely feels like he probably should have minimized the window and pretended he wasn’t doing this, but whatever.

“Ruben,” is all she says. There’s an unspoken question and an unspoken fear in her voice: he couldn’t even look at these when he was showing her and Usnavi, why would he be looking at them now?

“I wish I could help him,” Ruben explains, still staring into his own haunted eyes on the monitor. “I know that doesn’t make sense. I did help, he was me before I got better and it was me who got us here. But sometimes I feel like he’s still real somewhere outside of me and I wish I could help him.”

Vanessa looks at the picture, then touches Ruben’s face, like to remind herself which one is real. “Me too,” she says. “He deserves better.”

“He does,” Ruben agrees. He chews his sweater cuff. “Jason wanted me to help him again. I said no.”

It’s hard to get his head around it all: he feels like he needs to check it really happened. He can’t believe that he said no, that he stuck to it.

“You did. We’re so proud of you.”

Ruben nods.“I said no, and he didn’t listen, and then you both stopped him.”

“We wouldn’t have let him take you away.”

“Cool,” says Ruben. “That’s cool.”

He means a lot more than that which he can’t make small enough to fit into words. But he’s grateful. He’s so devastatingly grateful.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, hermoso _?”_ Usnavi asks from the doorway. His poor voice is still all battered and messed up just like his face but he can at least get a sentence out without wincing today, so long as he doesn’t raise his voice above a whisper.

Ruben feels clogged up and cloudy the way he does when he’s crying, though his eyes are dry.

“It was supposed to work,” he says. “It’s not fair. It was supposed to work, even when it fucked up there was supposed to be a way to turn it around and make him give me what he owed me in the end.”

“Ay, mi amado,” murmurs Usnavi, coming to sit on the arm of the couch next to him. “I wish the world wasn’t so cruel to you.”

“Nothing changed,” Ruben says, his voice getting shrill. “All that stress and you both got hurt and he could’ve  _killed_  you, Usnavi, and I had to see his stupid fucking face again, and it was for no reason because nothing’s changed except that now we all feel like shit. It’s not  _fair_.”

“Hey, c’mon,” says Vanessa, “You’ll get what you’re owed. I’m sorry you lost all that work, you’re right, it’s not fair. But at least he hasn’t touched it this time. You won’t have to speak to him, he won’t be able to twist it round later to make it sound like he did you a favor. He’s lost the last thing he could manipulate you with.”

“She’s right, querido,” Usnavi confirms. “It’s yours. It might take longer now but you wait, it’ll happen. Everyone’s gonna know how amazing you are.”He indicates the laptop screen. “Look how far you’ve come. And look how little he’s changed.”

“He’s gonna be the same forever, isn’t he?” says Ruben despondently. “I’d hoped he would’ve changed once Ian was gone. I don’t know why I cared. I…sometimes I felt so bad for him back then, that Ian ruined his life. At first because I thought he was a good guy with a lot to deal with, and even when I started to figure out that he was actually just a jerk I still thought…I dunno. I don’t always feel like a good person either. Especially after it all happened. I wanted to hurt Ian, all the time. I wanted to hurt myself.”

“Ruben,” says Vanessa. “Honey, neither of those things are at all the same as what either of them did to you.”

Ruben shrugs. “Maybe not. But it’s not…things aren’t as simple as I wish they were. I’m not naturally good or selfless or kind, I don’t think. But I try to be anyway, because I  _want_  to be that kind of person. I think trying counts for something, right?”

“It definitely does,” Vanessa tells him firmly. “Trying counts for  _everything_.”

“I guess I hoped that maybe he’d changed into someone who wasn’t naturally good but who tried to be. But he didn’t, he just wanted me to do all the work and fix all his problems for him again, no matter who got hurt along the way. I wanted for there to have been something in him that made all those years not  _completely_  fucking meaningless. It would’ve been nice for that other Ruben who I used to be to have been right about something.”

“Past-Ruben really can’t catch a break,” agrees Usnavi. “But if it helps, we love him too, even if we never met him and he was wrong about everything.”

“I think…I think it doesn’t help right now,” says Ruben. “I’m sorry. I don’t want it to help yet so it’s not going to. I just wanna be sad for a while.”

But in spite of himself something in him lightens: he doesn’t have to drag himself through this one alone. When he’s ready he’s got people who can reach in and help pull him out. Jason doesn’t get anything else from him, especially not his hard-won happiness.

A laugh bubbles up inside him, and it’s weird to think that he can feel this awful and still laugh. It took him so long to even smile again properly after Jamaica. But this time its  _different_.

“What’s funny?”

“I can’t believe you  _bit_  him,” says Ruben.

Usnavi looks like he’s not sure whether he’s embarrassed or proud . “Yeah, not my coolest move, maybe.”

“Shoulda got you tested while you were at urgent care,” says Vanessa, making a disgusted face. “God knows what you might have picked up.”

“Will you remind me later?” Ruben asks. “About all of the stuff you said just now?”  
  
“As often as you need,” says Usnavi. “Sometimes you gotta be sad. We won’t let you get stuck there too long.”

***

**Usnavi.**

On Saturday, the third day after Jason, it’s finally time to say goodbye to the place that his family have been making a living since before Usnavi was born.

If he can even get the fucking words out, that is, because his voice  _is_  getting better but progress is torturously slow. The bruises look worse because they’re going all kinds of crazy colours now as well as dark bluish-purple, but that’s how bruises do, part of the healing process. The rest of him does not feel like it’s healing at all. At least he’s been so busy being in a total fucking state about what happened that he hasn’t had time to be messed up about the store, which is the worst silver lining he could possibly imagine but shit, he’s trying his best here.

Since Sonny cut back his hours to focus on school the store hasn’t been opening at six thirty like it used to, too much for Usnavi to manage alone, but today is his last day and goddammit, he’s going to do it properly no matter what the other two say about  _resting_  or  _not overdoing it,_ so that's the time when he leaves them sleeping with a note to remind them where he's gone, though he feels suddenly abandoned as he softly closes the bedroom door behind him.  He shuffles out of his apartment in the icy pre-dawn and his heart almost stops at the sight of a figure fiddling with the grate already. But this silhouette is smaller than Usnavi, in an oversized puffy jacket and a baseball cap.

“Usually can’t get you here at this time even when you’re s’posed to be in,” he tells Sonny, who finally manages to wrangle the lock with his gloved hands. Usnavi pulls the grate up to open the store for the last time, wincing a little - his arms are sore but eh, that’s tradition, even if currently it’s for different reasons than the usual post-delivery ache.

“Last day,” says Sonny. “Gotta do it properly.”

And somehow that makes what's coming seem almost manageable, even while Usnavi’s simultaneously thinking about how empty all the shelves are looking and thinking about how much shit he’s gonna have to haul out of here anyway. Sonny gets to wiping down the shelves while Usnavi sets up the cash register and wonders how many activities he’s going to automatically add  _for the last time_  to today.

_This is way too much for one dude to deal with_ , he thinks. His eyes wander to the spot where Jason had him pinned. Remembering how it felt makes it hard to breathe for real, like he’s overthinking the process and forgotten how to do it, which then makes him remember what Ruben said and what the doctor said and what he’d seen when he stupidly decided to google  _effects of being strangled_ and there were a lot of scary phrases like  _delayed fatality_  and  _days or even weeks after the attack_  —

Something kind in his brain flings up a defensive memory of Vanessa immediately coming back from getting hit to stand over Usnavi, another one of Ruben solid and unmovable as he tells Jason to leave them alone. And the air gets in easier after that, so it’s just his mind messing with him and not death coming in late to the Jason party.  _There’s things I don’t want you to ever understand_ , Ruben had said, and if this is one of them even in a smaller dose then fuck, Usnavi doesn’t want to understand either, but at least he knows he’s got backup.

And then Camila and Kevin come in and there’s work to be done, there’s things that come to him far easier even than breathing. Like pan caliente, café con leche with five sugars, and letting Camila fuss over him. He listens to Kevin sagely telling him various ways to get bruises to fade faster, which Usnavi has heard at least four hundred times in his life but he likes to hear it over again. He likes when he knows people so well he could write their lines before they even say them.

“We can change plans tonight if it’s too much for you, Usnavi, cariño,” Camila tells him.

But Usnavi wants to be surrounded by something less complicated than his own feelings later, and he’s pretty sure Vanessa’s getting antsy with how quiet the apartment is, and even Ruben said he thinks he'll be able to show his face for a while, so long as everyone pretends they don’t know what happened. Usnavi just wants a nice dinner with people he loves, even if he can’t actually eat solid food right now.

Camila looks relieved when he shakes his head. “Oh, good, I started cooking already, I don’t know what I would’ve done with all the food if we cancelled. Tell Ruben that I’m making enough that he'll have some extra to take home with him.”

Camila is sort of obsessed with feeding Ruben. Ruben says it’s because she’s a very kind, considerate person. Nina says it’s because she’s reverse-imprinted on him and taken him under her wing like he’s a little baby duckling. Usnavi is just happy that Ruben has more people looking after him.

The day passes like always in a constant stream of motion, but he can’t sing like he usually would and he spends half his limited conversations talking to customers about the store closing and half of them talking about what the fuck happened to his face.  It would maybe be unbearable if Sonny didn’t stay the whole day, something he hasn’t done for months. He sings along to the radio loud enough for both of them and fields the questions about Usnavi’s bruises by making up elaborate, clearly fake scenarios that Usnavi giggles and nods along with every time. 

It’s not exactly the last day Usnavi would’ve imagined, and he suspects it’s not what his parents would have imagined for him either. Whatever: it’s the barrio’s last remaining De la Vegas doing what they do and doing it well. That’s the important part.

It feels right enough to carry him through till closing, but with his hand ready to pull down the grate and lock it, he thinks _this is the last time_ again. Now more than just bittersweet it’s painful, in a constricted, squeezing way that feels like a hand around his neck, and he inhales a little too sharp and fast to try and counteract it. It doesn't work, not the first time or the second or the —

Sonny interrupts with a hand on his shoulder. The ache eases and Usnavi realises that no, he’s fine, he’s just overwhelmed again.

God, he hopes this doesn’t become habit.

“Come on, cuz,” says Sonny. “Let’s let the old place get some rest for once.”

They reach up together and they pull the grate down together and it’s less difficult when Sonny’s by his side. Usnavi wonders what will happen to the mural once he’s gone, makes sure to take it in properly. It’s a little more timeworn and weatherbeat than the first time he saw it, but Abuela’s eyes are still the same, not quite as kind the real thing but probably as close as it’s possible to get an artist’s interpretation. Pete really did do an amazing job.

"Gracias, Abuela," he says quietly. "Alabanza."

“Do you think she’d be proud of us?” Sonny asks, and even though Usnavi doesn’t want anyone to feel how he's been feeling it’s comforting that he’s not the only one thinking about what they’re leaving behind, not the only one who’ll have things he’ll miss and memories that he’ll have to carry around without the solidity of the walls they were built in. They worked so hard here, they lived so much.

“Yeah,” says Usnavi. “I really do, actually.”

“This isn’t the end,” says Sonny, in a low voice. Maybe he’s matching the volume of Usnavi’s broken voice unconsciously or maybe it’s just because like Usnavi, Sonny’s only ever quiet when it’s something really important. “I mean, the store, yeah. But Usnavi, you know you’ll always have a home and places you belong, don’t you? Too many people love you for you to not.”

And of course Sonny’s clever enough to know what Usnavi’s been worrying about without being told directly. He's better at interpreting people, always has been. Usnavi nods. His throat hurts, but this time he knows it’s just his tears getting trapped.

“How are you coping?” Sonny asks. “There’s been a hell of a lot goin’ on with you.”

Usnavi almost says  _I’m fine_  on automatic, then rethinks. If Ruben’s allowed to be sad for a while then so is Usnavi. Ignoring it kind of blew up in his face before.

“I’m not doing okay at all,” says Usnavi, and Sonny hugs him hard. “But I’ll get there again. I just need time. Paciencia y fe.”

***

After Sonny extracts the promise that he will definitely show at the Rosario’s later, it’s just Usnavi and his store. He has cleaning to finish and packing to do, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.

Instead, he stands behind his counter trailing his fingers over the cash register and the coffee pot and the stacks of paper cups. He thinks of when Sonny was a kid and used to have to tiptoe to see high enough while he tried to buy his candy, and when Nina used to stand next to him to keep him company while he served customers and she wrote out college applications. There’s his dad’s first dollar, roughed up during the looting in the blackout but still there and in a new unbroken frame. He can almost hear the ladies at the salon calling out gossip and the shouts of  _piragua, ice cold piragua!_ He can almost hear Abuela.

If he thinks hard enough, blurred around the edges but clearer than most of his fading memories, he can remember being lifted up to sit on the counter, his father taking off the cap he always wore and setting it on Usnavi’s head. It falls down over Usnavi’s eyes. His mother pushes the hat back with a laugh, saying “your pai had better keep hold of it for now, mi pequeño _._  You’ll grow into it when you’re ready.”

Back in the present, the door from the back stairway opening, and Vanessa coming through with Ruben just behind her.

“We’re closed,” Usnavi tells her as they come up to where he’s standing.

“Aw, really? That’s too bad,” she says.

(Usnavi can see Vanessa age ten and tomboyish with her hair all wild and unbrushed, he can see her sixteen and furious about everything up to and including the fact that she is sixteen, he can remember the feeling of her looking into his eyes as she suggested they check out the fireworks.He can hear her saying  _it’s gonna be okay_  as she takes a bottle of cold champagne with a broken twisty thing out of his fumbling hands.)

“We want coffee,” Ruben explains.

(Usnavi can see Ruben from the first time they met, slowly getting brighter and bolder as each day passes. He can remember the first time they touched, only a few feet away from where they are now, and the first time he drew out Ruben’s real deep-down giggle of a laugh. He can hear Jason asking Ruben how long Usnavi would be enough for him and Ruben answering  _always_  without having to deliberate for even a second.)

“Freeloading off me till the very end, I see how it is,” says Usnavi, but he puts it on to brew anyway. “Get ready to savor the last cup of De la Vega coffee you’re ever going to have.”

“Not to kill the drama of it all, but I’m a hundred percent certain you’re going to make us coffee again tomorrow morning,” says Vanessa.

“And who's freeloading?” Ruben objects, hopping up to sit on the counter. Then his eyes unfocus for a second, lips moving silently, that face he makes when he’s figuring out a tough equation. “Wait. Wait! Usnavi, have I never paid you for coffee?!"

“Holy shit, Ruben,” says Vanessa. “Are you for real?”

“Can both of you shut up and let me have my moment?” Usnavi demands.

“Sorry,” says Vanessa and “sorry,” says Ruben, and Usnavi turns his attention to carefully, reverently making their orders exactly perfect. A little bit of cinnamon for both of them, Vanessa’s with plenty of milk and sugar and Ruben’s dark but not bitter. And one for Usnavi, light and sweet.

“This is so  _surreal_ , man,” says Vanessa, sipping her drink and looking round the almost-empty store. "So much happened here. Remember how you were so incompetent with women that Sonny actually had to ask me out for you, Usnavi?

“Fuck you,” says Usnavi. “Remember when you kissed Ruben on accident before we were dating and fried his brain?”

“I can’t think of a moment,” says Ruben. “There’s too many good ones.” He looks down into his cup. “I’m sorry I ruined your last week here, Usnavi. Probably not the goodbye you wanted. This place deserved better.”

“Not your fault, hermoso. Anyway, that’s not so important, it’s what came before the goodbye that counts.”

Ruben still looks downcast, though, and Vanessa’s fiddling sadly with her hair and - well. Usnavi gets it. He’s bummed out too, that one of his last memories of his bodega is always gonna be  _that_.

But it  _is_  what came before that counts, and even though this place saw its share of bad moments over the years, some of the worst moments of Usnavi’s life, it saw the best too. What came before the goodbye was always Usnavi, making people coffee and making people happy, and he wants it to stay that way in his memories forever. Usnavi worked hard for his legacy. Nobody gets to take that from him.

Usnavi  _will_ be happy again. All of them will. He won’t allow things to go any other way.

And goddamn but he’s tired of these weighted silences. Even trying to be careful today his voice is getting worn out, he doesn’t think he’s got enough left in him to talk their way out of this one, so instead he leans over and clicks on the old cd-radio combo that he’s had since he was a teenager. The cd jumps into a salsa beat. Usnavi comes out to stand in the aisle, reaching for Vanessa.

“Vanessa,” he says. “Dance with me?”

Vanessa stares at him, and then a slow smile spreads across her face and even though her lip’s still busted she looks perfect. She takes his hand.

“One last night in the hood?” she asks wryly, twirling gently so she turns in close towards him.

“Let’s make it a good one,” Usnavi says, and lets her spin him too.

They dance together in fluent, familiar step. Vanessa puts all her weight on Usnavi’s arm when he dips her during the last bars. As he pulls her back up and the next song kicks in, she holds her hand out to Ruben, sitting in the spot he’s claimed as his like an oversized bodega cat and watching them fondly.

“You too, Ruben,” she says.

“Salsa’s not my rhythm,” he tells them, letting himself be pulled towards them. “You guys will have to lead.”

“We can get you dancing,” Vanessa promises. Ruben tucks himself in between them, with Usnavi resting his chin on one shoulder and Vanessa doing the same on the other. Usnavi sways them in time, his hands atop Vanessa’s where they’re holding Ruben’s hips. “We always have before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: and that's the story, y'all! there's a short epilogue coming up soon, its mostly already written, and quite possibly a follow-up fic to deal with some of the unresolved emotional fallout - there was way too much to fit into this story without ruining the pace! thanks for sticking with me, writing this has been wild. my longest plottiest fic so far!
> 
> please leave comments if you enjoyed this chapter, or if you've read up to this point without commenting! i'd love to hear what you think.]


	18. Chapter 18

**Vanessa**

_California, three months later._

Vanessa’s ostensibly doing work from home but actually is ignoring all the open windows on her laptop to talk to Nina instead when Ruben hits up her Facetime. She answers to him at the unflattering low angle of a phone in hand, so she can’t really see much other than his chin from underneath and some ceiling tiles.Ruben apparently catches sight of the little inset window that shows his own camera because he says “augh, Jesus, no” and readjusts position. The background of what looks like cheap vinyl of a booth seat and the rest of Ruben’s face comes into view. She assumes roadside diner.

“Vanessa,” he says. “How mad will you be if I leave Usnavi on the side of a highway somewhere? I’m not saying it will definitely happen, I’m just wanting to keep my options open.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to fly!” Usnavi objects from off camera, then crowds into the booth next to Ruben, squishing their cheeks up against each other so they can both fit on the screen. “Hey, querida.”

“I have _trauma_!” Ruben defends himself, then says confidingly to Vanessa, “I’m going to have so much more trauma by the time we get there. Remind me why I thought like fifty hours in a cramped vehicle with Usnavi was a good idea?”

“Because you get to spend a whole four days with me at the end of it, genius,” she says and he nods his head like _yeah_ _that’s true._

“I’m sorry it’s not longer,” he says, remorsefully. “If we were flying we’d have so much more time, but the _plane,_ and then it being a new place and —“

“Hey,” she says. “None of that. I get it. I’m just looking forward to seeing you.”

“Road trip!” Usnavi crows, flopping his arms happily across Ruben’s shoulders. Ruben makes an irritated noise - she suspects Usnavi has yelled _road trip!_ at least thirty times since they set off - but even on the low-res image Vanessa can see the smile he’s suppressing. “It’s been wild! Two dudes, out on the open highway, discovering America!”

“Discovering that Usnavi has the bladder capacity of an incontinent mouse,” says Ruben.

“Discovering that Ruben’s real weird about me offering to just go in an empty bottle instead of having to stop the car every time,” says Usnavi.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vanessa can see Nina trying not to laugh. She covers her own mouth to hide her giggle, suddenly, idiotically happy.

“I refuse to accept that I’m somehow the weird one for not wanting us to drive around surrounded by bottles of your urine. I _refuse_.”

“I did it anyway, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

“I know, you’ve been snapchatting pictures of his face every time you do something annoying. I’m gonna GIF them all together like a little stop-frame animation of Ruben’s slow descent into insanity,” Vanessa says. “Have you banged in the backseat yet?”

Ruben says primly, “Vanessa, it is a _rental car,_ that would be very disrespectful to someone else’s property.”

“We just did mouth stuff in the front seats instead,” Usnavi says, winking and pointing at her. Ruben grins and nods. “We’re classy boys.”

Nina slams her book closed and slides into frame. “Hi, guys. Hope the trip’s been fun. I’m sorry I won’t be here to greet you but I’ve got an emergency appointment to have that whole conversation wiped from my mind, so.”

“Oops,” says Usnavi unapologetically, while Ruben turns scarlet. “Hey, Nina. Stop imagining our dicks, you pervert.”

“Wish I could, but ever since the Facetime Incident of January 27th—“

“We said we weren’t gonna _mention_ that,” Ruben hisses. Nina shrugs. “ _Anyway_. I was just calling to say we’re about three hours out now.”

Usnavi and Ruben both give big, inane smiles when he says it. Vanessa wants to make fun of them but shit, she can feel herself doing exactly the same thing. “Three hours,” she says.

“Three hours,” Usnavi echoes. They all revel in it. California and the people Vanessa has met here and Nina and the job, it’s all been amazing. She’s got no regrets. But this is Usnavi and Ruben, and it’s been weeks since she saw them outside the pixellated confines of a Facetime window.

“I mean, three hours assuming you ever start driving again instead of just standing around gawking at each other,” says Nina, settling back down with her book.

They all startle and laugh and say their goodbyes. Vanessa stares at the work she’s supposed to be doing and her own faint reflection on the laptop screen trying to wrangle all the feelings back inside her chest. 

“Your face is kinda stupid right now,” Nina informs her, turning a page.

“Your life is really stupid every day,” she retorts immediately, but Nina’s right and Vanessa doesn’t even care. Her boys are smiling and they’re safe and they’re on their way to be with her.

It won’t be long now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: the end for real.
> 
> thanks for flying with us if you stayed this far, i had a blast.]

**Author's Note:**

> [a/n: it's gonna be a long one, guys]
> 
> [come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://thisstableground.tumblr.com/)]


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